For the Greater Good
by Elvira Slytherin
Summary: Harry is adopted by a reluctant Snape. He is brought to live in a creepy mansion filled with dark secrets. As Harry learns more about the death eaters and how they started, the lines between good and evil start to blur.
1. Harry's Arrival

_We're finally here._ Harry thought, tiredly suppressing a huge yawn threatening to crack open his face. Though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, it was hard to tell. The driver mechanically told him that he had arrived at his destination and the moment Harry got out of the car, it sped past him, as if trying to flee the monster inside the cave. Harry wished that the ministry car was taking him back to the Burrow. Heck, even the Dursleys would be better than this place. Harry thought grimly looking up at the tall dark house towering in front of him. Snape had to be home and yet the shutters were firmly closed, blocking every single ray of light from entering into his domain. The small garden in front of the house was filled with rows and rows of neatly arranged flowers, but these weren't the ordinary ones you'd see in a typical English garden. No. These were strange unrecognizable plants with enormous spikes, tube like leaves and pitch black flowers that looked more rotten than alive. On the window sill there were jars filled with bubbling liquids of different shapes and colors. They seem to be enveloped in a cloud of multicolored mist. Harry could feel a shiver running down his spine.

Why? Just why couldn't he end up in a normal home? Out of all the people who could have taken him in why did it have to be Snape, the one and only ex death eater who happened to hate his guts. First he was stuck with the Dursleys who hated him because of his mother, now he was stuck with Snape who hated him because of his father. Just fantastic! Harry sighed loudly before accepting the inevitable and starting to walk along the gravel pathway which cut the rows of strange flowers in half. The heavy trunk jolted on the uneven floor making it hard for Harry to walk. The moment he pushed open the iron gates guarded by a gargoyle snake with evil red eyes, all sounds seemed to fade. The chirping of the birds ceased abruptly and the whoosh of the wind died on its tracks. The whole property was enveloped in a bubble of uneasy silence.

Harry tightened his coat around himself, wishing fervently that he was anywhere but here. He walked up to the ebony colored door and before he could loose courage, he rapped on the door sharply, making sure that he was heard. The dull thud of knuckle on wood reverberated strangely inside the puddle of silence, making it sound much louder than it really was. Harry tried to moisten his parched lips with an even drier tongue. A water bottle. He knew he had neglected to pack something at the Burrow. His thoughts flew back to the dozen apples laying inside his trunk. He didn't know what to expect from his stay with Snape. What would the dungeon bat make him do? Where would he make him sleep? Would he even let him eat? He didn't know. The apples, packets of crackers, chips, cake and various other food items were merely a precautional measure. Ten years living with the Dursleys had made him an excellent food smuggler.

The thick heavy door opened with an ominous creak. Out of the dark house stepped out the tall imposing figure of Professor Severus Snape. He was wearing his usual dark bellowing robes and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. He was looking down his formidable nose at a terrified Harry. The moment the cold obsidian eyes met his, Harry felt like bolting out the door and returning to the safety of his protective friends.

"Potter." Snape stated nodding his head in acknowledgement of the young boy's presence.

"Good morning, sir." His voice came out smaller and more high pitched than he had expected. "Professor Dumbledore sent me."

"I'm well aware of why you are here, Mr. Potter." Snape sneered. Reluctantly, he opened the door a little wider. "Get in." Harry gulped and slipped inside, not knowing what awaited him. He was painfully aware of the fact that Snape used to be a death eater. In fact, it was more than probable that he was still a death eater, biding the right moment to hand him over to the Dark Lord.

Everything was pitch black. No white sunlight. No orange flames coming from a roaring fire, only darkness everywhere. He heard the large door bang shut behind him and he jumped a foot in the air. It felt as if he had suddenly been thrust into the cupboard under the stairs where no light could reach him. Only it was worse, much worse. He could sense the looming figure of his professor watching him closely, his feral eyes seeing even in the darkness.

"The garden, my potions lab and my bedroom are strictly off limits. If I catch you setting so much as one foot on any of these premises, you will sorely regret it." Snape's cold voice seemed to come from all around him. Harry tightened his jacket around his body as he began to shiver. It was so cold. Harry never thought that he would miss the Dursleys but right now, if he was given a choice, he would have happily crawled into his cupboard. "Your bedroom is up stairs, on the first door to your right. Do not, under any circumstances, disturb me." There was a swish of robes and then, suddenly, Snape was gone, leaving Harry completely alone in the dark room. And never in his life had Harry felt more alone than now, in the house of a man who hated him.

 _He was wet. He could feel his ragged clothes sticking to his body as he lay on the ground, shivering. But whether from the cold or the hunger not even he could tell. He blinked, giving his fog filled mind time to clear itself. It didn't take long for the pain to take over, bringing with it a flood of ghastly memories. It hurt. It hurt everywhere. His head, his arms, his rumbling stomach but especially his back. It felt as if his skin was on fire._ Where was Eva? She would help him. _He moaned weakly, licking his cracked lips. Water. He needed water. He didn't know how long he had been trapped here, completely forgotten but one thing was sure, if he didn't get some water, there would be no tomorrow to wake up to._

 _He moaned again, begging to be heard._ Water. Someone please, a drop of water. Eva, where are you? I need your help. _He tried to push himself up with his palms but his fingers slipped underneath him. His face hit the ground with a dull thud. Wet. He was laying in the middle of a puddle. Oh, thank Merlin. Trembling, he extended his tongue. Its tip met the glossy pool of liquid all around him but instead of fresh water, he felt an unpleasant metallic taste flooding his mouth. Blood._

 _He coughed and splattered as he tried to sit up again. He could feel the bile rising up to his throat. He felt as if he was going to vomit but that was not humanly possible. He had no food or water in his stomach. His cloths were damp and heavy around him, soaked up with blood. He began to tremble. Oh, God, what was happening? Was he injured? Was he dying? Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. It seemed impossible that a single human body could hold so much blood in it._

 _Help. He wanted to scream but his voice was gone. They had taken it away from him as they had taken everything else. Oh, God. What was happening? He tried to move, to do something, anything other than sit around waiting for something to happen. The pool of blood sloshed around him as he dragged his unwilling body inch by inch across the floor. He couldn't do it. The pain was too much._

 _Help. Someone. Eva? Where was Eva? She would help him. She would hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. She would be strong and firm and kind and gentle as she always was. He just had to find her and everything would be alright. She would…_

 _A ghastly scream tore the air apart._ Eva! _Another scream, even louder than the first._ No! Leave her alone! _He ground his teeth and heaved himself up but he felt himself being yanked backwards. His head hit the stone floor with a sickening thud. Everything went black. Somewhere in the distance a man was laughing…_

Severus woke up, screaming. He was drenched with sweat and his sheets were bundled up all around him, trapping him on his large wrought iron bed. Eva! He had to go. He had to save her. Severus struggled against the sheets, getting even more entangled in his hurry. He couldn't breathe. His lungs screamed for air as he kicked and fought. Damn those bastards. What were they doing to her? They won't hurt her again. He won't let them. He won't let them take her away as they had taken away all the others. 

Crack! Something large fell on the floor, shattering into a thousand fragments. Severus froze. His eyes took in the vague outline of his desk lamb, lying broken on the cold stone floor. Moonlight streamed from the window illuminating other objects around him. The tall cupboard that reached from floor to ceiling containing all his cloths, the simple wooden chair that sat next to the window with a footstool in front of it, and especially his book shelves. Dozens of bookshelves filled to the brim with novels, all of them worn out with frequent use. Soft, blue light fell onto the spines of his well-loved books, giving them an almost ethereal beauty. Severus's eyes automatically scanned the shelves for his favorites. Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre. Great Expectations. All there, exactly as he had left them last night.

Severus let out a deep breath and passed a trembling hand through his hair. _A nightmare. It was just a nightmare._ He told himself firmly but that was the problem. It wasn't just a nightmare. It was a memory, something that was buried deep inside him for a long time and now it has decided to resurface.

Damn Potter. It was all that wretched boy's fault. Just when he was rebuilding a life for himself, putting his past memories aside, Potter had to show up and ruin everything. Six months. That's how long he hand gone without a single nightmare. Compared to a few years ago when every night he used to wake up screaming, that was a monumental improvement. He had started to hope that they had vanished for good, but now they had returned and all because of the bloody Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torment-Him. Damn him and damn Dumbledore. Why did he, of all people, have to be stuck with Potter? There were millions of people out there who would have jumped at the chance of adopting the savior of the wizarding world. And what about Professors Minerva, Pomona or Flitwick? Couldn't they have adopted the boy? Surely both Potter and he would have been happier if he had been given to almost anyone else. But no! The old coot had to insist that he and he alone adopt the boy. And how could he refuse? Dumbledore was the one man that stood between him and a dark cell in Azkaban crawling with Dementors.

So here he was, the adoptive father of one Harry James Potter. Oh, the irony! He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. _I need a drink._


	2. Defense Lessons

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Harry counted the spots of damp on the ceiling. The middle spot looked as if two were combined together along one edge. Did that count as one spot or two? That's odd because he distinctly remember that it had been two spots about an hour ago. Well then, it definitely counted as two. Harry let out a heavy sigh. He was so bored.

He was laying down on his bed with a transfiguration book sitting face down on his chest. He had tried to pull a Hermione and start memorizing all his textbooks just so he would have something to do. He had finished his homework a week ago. Harry never truly appreciated how smart Hermione was until now, these huge textbooks were impossible to understand without the teachers explanations and the fact that he couldn't practice with a wand really did not help matters.

He glanced at the open window looking for a familiar white shape but the sky was a clear unmarked blue. There wasn't even a cloud that he could mistake for his faithful familiar. His friends haven't written back to him in weeks. Harry couldn't really blame them. After all, both of them had families that wanted to spend time with them and truth be told, if Harry had a family he wouldn't be looking out the window every hour waiting for the post to arrive. Where else would he find a friendly word?

It has been three weeks since he had arrived at Snape's doorstep. Harry had spent most of this time locked up in his room, reading, writing letters to his friends and doing his homework while he still had it. There was just no were else for him to go. The garden was out of bounds and the rest of the house was just too dark. Once Harry had tried to pry the shutters open but the locks wouldn't budge. He had tried hard, pushing and pulling, rattling the window panes. He had only stopped when Snape materialized out of the shadows and hissed at him to "stop being an infernal nuisance, Potter."

Speaking of Snape, the man was never anywhere to be found. The house was eerily quiet, almost as if Harry was the only living soul roaming its corridors. He didn't even know where his lab and his bedroom were located. There were doors everywhere in this house. Small ones and large ones crammed together into every available space. There were doors under the staircase, doors along the hallway, doors lining the kitchen and the living room. There was no way to know where each and every door led but they made Harry highly uncomfortable. Unlike at Hogwarts where every door was an adventure, here it felt as if behind each and every door, Snape could be lying in wait, ready to ambush him. So in his small room he stayed, staring at walls covered in a dull grey paint with only a single bed and a cupboard for company. Harry sighed wearily. This summer was going to be a very long one indeed.

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of all the gloomy thoughts. He just needed to focus on the positive side of things. First, he was still alive and intact which, considering Snape's dark reputation, was a small miracle. Second, he was well- fed. Every day when he went down to the kitchen in time for breakfast, lunch or dinner, a full meal complete with desert was laid out on the elegant table. Third and best of all, Snape was no where in sight which meant that Harry would have to endure his biting comments and insults as little as possible. All in all, his situation could have been a lot worse.

"Potter?" Snape's voice called from behind his bedroom door. Harry jumped up from the bed, feeling as if he had been caught doing something illegal. Snape's voice had that affect on most people.

"What is it, sir?" Harry answered, rushing to open the door. What was going on? Snape had never come out to look for him, not once in three weeks. Their contact had been limited to accidental brushes along the corridor. So why was he here now, knocking at his bedroom door?

Snape was standing in front of the doorway with his hands crossed in front of his chest, his face contorted into a familiar expression of loathing. His cold eyes swept over Harry, examining him from head to toe.

"Well, well, Potter. I see you have been sleeping in the middle of the day. It seems that your supreme laziness is not limited to the school year." Harry bit his tongue, hard, trying to keep himself from saying something he will regret. He could feel the familiar anger rise in his chest but he forced his voice to remain polite.

"Did you want something, sir?"

"Lunch is ready. Come downstairs in ten minutes precisely." With that, Snape spun around, his black robes bellowing around him. "And Potter, do try and look presentable. You look like a delinquent in those abominable rags."

Delinquent? Harry felt his throat constrict as he shut the door slowly. He felt a sudden inexplicable urge to laugh. A delinquent. The man had called him a delinquent just like Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge. Snape was just like them, hating him for no reason than because he breathed. It had taken him ten long years to escape the clutches of the Dursleys and now, look where he was. Harry passed a hand through his mop of messy hair. He was just so bloody tired. Almost on automatic, he went to his trunk and got dressed in his school robes, the only suite of cloths that didn't look as if he was wearing elephant skin. He took out the Gryffindor badge and hid it in the bottom of his trunk. The man hated him already, there was no need to provoke him any further.

He passed a comb through his hair but just as always, his messy mop refused to be tamed. What did he care what Snape thought? He was a death eater after all, allied to the man who killed his parents. He didn't give a damn what he thought. Snape called him a prat, a fool, an arrogant show-off and a delinquent. What did he care? It was just Snape being the usual greasy git, the terror of the dungeons. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Harry repeated the words again and again in his mind, the same words he had repeated thousands of times at number 4, Private Drive.

He remembered the first time he told himself that he didn't care. He had been barely five and it was the merry time of Christmas. At least, it had been merry for anyone whose name hadn't been Harry James Potter. While the Dursleys were laughing and singing carols, their bellies filled with mince pies and stuffed turkey, Hary had been standing in a corner, watching. He had watched while they played games. He had watched while they opened their Christmas crackers and adorned their heads with paper crowns. He had watched while Dudley opened his presents, sitting on his father's lap while his mother handed him present after present, each one wrapped with glossy red and green wrapping paper. There were so many presents that he couldn't even keep count. There was a brand new bike, a game boy, a stuffed bear, a toy helicopter and so much more. And for Harry? Absolutely nothing. That year Harry had gone so far as to ask Uncle Vernon if Santa had left him any presents. He had been careful to be extra good that year, but Uncle Vernon had just growled. "You are a delinquent boy and Santa doesn't give presents to delinquents." He didn't even know what the word had meant but he still cried as he stood at his corner telling himself that he didn't care, over and over again. Harry had lost count of the number of times he had been called a delinquent. His uncle, his aunt, his cousin and even the neighbors. It had never mattered that he had tried his best to be good, he was still a delinquent.

Harry had a private bathroom. He went inside and slammed the door shut. Okay. He had to calm himself down. In five more minutes he had to go downstairs and face Snape and his biting insults. He couldn't loose his temper, not here when he was entirely at Snape's mercy.

He went to the sink and opened the faucet. Cold water rushed out. Droplets splashed onto his white shirt, leaving behind a pattern of grey spots. Harry gripped the edges of the sink and let out a deep steadying breathe. I don't care. I don't care. I'm just being an idiot. Sure, he still got insulted on a daily basis but at least, he didn't have to work anymore and he got fed, which is a hell of a lot better than at the Dursleys. All in all, it wasn't so bad.

Then why did he feel like banging his head on the nearest grey wall every few hours? Why is it that Snape's comments still stung? Because for just an instant, before Dumbledore came out with this ridiculous solution, he had dared to hope that finally, after years of disappointment, he would be having a real family. He had pictured himself sharing a room with Ron, coming down to breakfast everyday and having Mrs. Weasley greet him with a hearty good morning. He had pictured opening his present on Christmas morning and finding a jumper with a large H embroidered onto it.

Harry scooped up some water and splashed his face, letting the cold seep into his skin. He could feel the water slipping down his neck and dampening the white shirt. This was all his fault. He had broken the second most important rule of his life: never hope. With a tired sigh, Harry wiped his face with a pristine white towel and headed downstairs for breakfast.

"Harry, my dear boy, it's so good to see you!" Harry's jaw dropped open. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the table, his eyes twinkling under his half moon spectacles. Harry fought against the feeling of betrayal that was settling into his stomach and offered him a small smile.

"Its great to see you too, sir." What was he doing here? Was it possible that he had come to take Harry away. Maybe he could go live with the Weasleys after all.

"It's a splendid morning, isn't it? Come. Come. Have a bite of bacon and eggs." Dumbledore cheerfully patted the chair to his left. The dining room seemed completely transformed, the gloom and darkness vanished overnight. The windows were wide open throwing light onto the wooden table stuffed with food. There was bacon, eggs, pancakes, cupcakes, chocolate pudding and even a bright orange bowl filled with lemon drops. It looked like a feast. Snape was sitting to Dumbledore's right with a Daily Prophet open in front of him looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. He didn't look up when Harry sat at the table and served himself with the smallest portions possible. He didn't feel particularly hungry today.

"So Harry, I see you look well. I hope you've already started doing your summer homework."

"I've finished it, sir."

"Good, its always better when you get your homework done early. That way when September the first comes near, you won't have anything to worry about." He gave Harry a smile as he submerged his pancakes with maple syrup. Harry nodded, distractedly cutting a piece of bacon into little squares. He wanted to know what Dumbledore was doing here but he didn't want to be rude and ask him directly. Was Dumbledore so happy because finally he was giving Harry what he always wanted, a proper family?

"I myself had a great summer. I found this dog on the…"

"Headmaster, perhaps it is better if you tell Potter why you are here." So, it is true. Dumbledore had really come all the way here to see Harry. He crossed his fingers under the table, hoping despite himself that Dumbledore really did care about him.

"Of course, of course, Severus." Dumbledore ate a forkful of pancakes and chewed slowly. Harry watched his face, his own food completely forgotten. _Oh come on, Professor, show me that I was right in trusting you with my secret. Take me away from here._

"As you saw with your own eyes last year, Harry, Voldemort is anything but dead."

"Oh." This was definitely not what Harry had expected.

"Thanks to your quick actions, Voldemort still doesn't have a human body but that doesn't mean that he will stop trying to get one. His spirit has contacted his former death eaters and it seems like he's trying to reassemble his army."

"Without a body, sir?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that Voldemort has found another poor soul willing to share their body with him but yes, Harry, Voldemort still doesn't have his own body. He must believe that with an entire army at his disposal, it will be easier to find a way to fully resurrect himself."

"And then he's going to come after me."

"I'm afraid so." Harry nodded, wondering why he wasn't feeling more frightened. Maybe it is because Harry had already known all this. The moment he had come face to face with Voldemort he had known that the man would not stop hunting him.

"And that is why I have taken additional steps to make you sure you will be safe, Harry. I have asked Professor Snape to train you in advanced defense against the dark arts." Harry blinked, the brief moment of hope vanishing in an instant. Advanced defense against the dark arts with Snape, the master of dark arts? Had Dumbledore completely lost his mind? Snape would hex him into oblivion and not teach him a single thing. So much for a Snape-free summer.

"I would think, Headmaster, that since you are the most powerful wizard in the world, you would be more suited to…" Snape started to argue.

"We have already discussed this, Severus. I have explained this to you once, I will not be doing it again." Dumbledore was unusually stern as he looked at Snape above the rim of his half moon spectacles. "Your lessons will start immediately. The sooner you are trained in defending yourself, the better."

"Will you be staying for the lesson, sir?" Harry asked clinging to the last shred of hope. If Dumbledore was with them, Snape wouldn't dare hurt him.

"Me? Oh no, Harry. I have to be off now. In fact, I'm already late." Dumbledore said looking pointedly at his watch and before Harry could come up with any kind of protest, Dumbledore was gone, leaving the two of the them to finish their breakfast in awkward silence.

 _Honestly, was this man allergic to sunlight?_ Harry thought grimly as he stepped foot into the training room. There was no sunlight anywhere, only the dim orange glow of dozens of candles floating around in mid- air. With the large black and white checkered tiles covering the floor, the room looked oddly like the chess board Harry had played in last year but instead of an entire army of pieces, there were only two. Him and Snape. A pawn and a castle ready to blow each other into little pieces.

"This first lesson will be dedicated to practicing what you have already learned." Snape got straight to the point, probably wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. He was standing stiffly in the middle of the room, his wand held tightly in his right hand. Harry tried hard not to stare at the shiny black wand that seemed to gleam in the candlelight. What sort of dark spells did Snape know? Had anyone died at the point of that simple wand? Even now, with one flick Harry could be on the floor twitching in pain or worse, lying stone dead. Harry felt so utterly powerless at this moment and he was mad at Dumbledore for putting him in this situation. Even with Uncle Vernon Harry had known that if the worst happened he could turn around and run as fast as his legs could carry him but with Snape, what could he do? Absolutely nothing.

"Are so talented that you have already mastered wandless magic, Potter." Snape sneered.

"No, sir." His voice was quiet, respectful. Anything other than that would be dangerous. Whatever happens, he must not loose his temper.

"Then I suggest you take out your wand." Harry took out his wand and held it front of him, trying his best to remember all he had learned last year. With all the major changes that had taken place this summer, Harry had all but forgotten everything he had learned in school. His short wand felt completely useless in his inexperienced fingers.

"Now tell me, Potter, what spells would help you defend yourselves against an attack."

"Well... there's the flying spell, Wingardium Leviosa."

"And under what conditions can that spell be used?" Harry stared, not knowing what Snape was talking about. He vaguely remembered something Professor Flickwick had said in class. Something about how some magical animals were resistant to the spell. Or was it magical plants? Or maybe it was a different spell? Damn. Harry vowed that this year he would pay more attention in class.

"I had hoped that in these last few weeks you had acquired a modicum of intelligence. It seems that I was wrong." _Do not react. Do not react. I mustn't make him angry._

"Let us try again, Potter. If a dragon were blocking your path, would you use Wingardium Leviosa to lift him out of the way."

"Uh... No?"

"And why is that, Potter?" Dead silence. "Are you telling me that you do not know how to answer such a simple question? If you hadn't wasted so much time breaking the rules, you might have gotten more out of your lessons." _Actually I've been too busy stopping a crazy dark wizard from returning to life, Snape._ Harry thought angrily but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Wingardium Leviosa can only be used on items that weigh less than the person who casts the spell. Hence, if I cast the spell on you, you would start to float; however, if you cast the spell on me, nothing would happen. Now, I know that your minuscule mind is already overflowing with arrogance, Potter, but do try to remember this piece of vital information." 

"Yes, sir." Harry hoped that Snape couldn't tell how tightly his teeth were clenched.

"Now, I want you to practice this spell." Snape lazily flicked his wand arm and a large book the size of footstool thumbed to the ground at Harry's feet. "Send this book into that corner of the room." Harry pulled up his sleeves and tried to concentrate. He couldn't get this wrong. He knew this spell perfectly but with Snape sneering down at him it was hard to keep his focus on the dusty old book.

"Do be quick, Potter. We have a rather long list of spells to review. I want to finish this lesson before midnight."

"Wingardium Levisa." Harry blurted out, already panicked. He knew it was wrong the moment the words jumped out of his mouth.

"It's 'leviosa', not 'levisa.' I would have thought even you knew that, Potter. Try again."

"Wingardium Leviosum." Damn it. Why couldn't he say the bloody words? He knew this! He had used this spell on a troll for Merlin's sake! Somehow Snape was even more stressful that a fully grown mountain troll.

"Potter! What is the matter with you? Wingardium Leviosa. It is not that hard. Try again!"

"Wingardium Leviosa." Harry yelled, jabbing his wand in the book's direction. The book shot across the room with the force of a bullet and hit Snape squarely on the chest. _Oh, crap! So much for not angering the man._

"It is astounding, Potter, how you cannot follow the simplest of instructions. I told you to send the book to the opposite corner, like so." He flicked his wand and the book gracefully sailed through thin air and landed in the corner. "Try again!" Another flick of his wand and the book was in front of Harry's feet, waiting for his spell. Harry frowned at the book as if it was to blame for his current predicament. He lifted his wand, forced his anger deep inside him and said the spell.

Four hours. They had been practicing all the spells Harry had used throughout the school year for four whole hours. Wasn't he supposed to be learning advanced defense? Then why were they going over every single subject he had ever learned. They had gone over transfiguration spells, charms, potion properties and even herbology facts. What did any of these things have to do with defense? Harry would've sworn that Snape was just making him go over everything just to prove that he hadn't paid attention to his classes.

Harry couldn't feel his feet and beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead despite the chill in the room. Harry's teeth were clenched so tightly, he was afraid they would break. Snape's insults were getting worse and worse and Harry was finding it increasingly hard not to react. _I must not make him angry._ _I must be polite. It's nearly over. It can't go on for much longer._

"You're just like your father, Potter." _Do not react. Do not answer back._ Harry bit the inside of his cheek. "Thinking that you're better than everybody else simply because you exist. Arrogance and complete lack of brains seem to be family trait." _Do not react. Do not react._ Harry's left hand was balled into a fist, he had the sudden urge to punch that stupid sneer off Snape's face.

"Try again, Potter!"

"Reparo!" Harry whispered through clenched teeth. Nothing happened. The book's spine still remained cracked. Oh, how Harry hated that stupid book with its brown leather cover. He had been staring at the blasted thing for four hours!

"Brilliant spellwork." Snape sneered. "Again!"

"Reparo!" Harry yelled. The book instead of mending itself, tore apart from the middle, its pages violently ripped out. Yellowed pages whisked through thin air, flying left and right so fast they seemed to have grown eagle wings. There was a loud thud as the book cover flew across the room and hit the opposite wall. It fell to the floor in four different pieces.

"Tell me, does that book appear to be completely mended to you?" Snape sneered looking at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"No, sir." Harry took deep steadying breaths, he needed to calm himself down.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Potter, but did I not tell you to mend the book completely?"

"Yes you did, sir."

"Then, why are there pieces of the book floating around in mid-air?" Harry thought it was safer to remain silent. "Answer the question, Potter."

"I made a mistake, sir."

"A mistake? I hardly think that is the cause. You know what I think, Potter? I think that you are the laziest person I've had the misfortune to meet, with the obvious exception of that worthless father of yours."

"He was worth a lot more than you!" The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. Harry clamped his mouth shut. _I really need to learn how to control my temper._

"This coming from the mouth of the most ignorant student in the school. One who doesn't even know how to cast a simple repair spell! Pathetic. Just like your fa…"

"My father could have beaten you bloody in a duel." This time, Harry was too mad to even try to stop himself. Who was this idiot to talk about his father like this?. All color seemed to drain from Snape's face. His thin lips twitched with fury. Harry gripped his wand tighter and held it in front of his face. It didn't matter that he didn't know any offensive spells. He would go down fighting.

"And how exactly did you deduce this brilliant conclusion. James Potter is stone dead. He was dead before you even learned how to talk."

"Bastard!" The wand dropped from Harry fingers as he lunged at Snape's neck. He hit an invisible barrier and was thrown to the ground. His elbow hit the stone floor sending shock waves of pain up his arm. Tears of anger and humiliation gathered at his eyes, blurring his vision. Snape's dark figure towered over him, coming in and out of focus. Harry ignored the pain and quickly got himself back on his feet.

"What a brilliant idea, attacking a man with a wand with nothing but your fists." Snape sneered.

"Shut up! Why don't you just shut the hell up!?" Harry screamed. "I've had enough! Why do you have to insult me every single time you open that bloody mouth of yours? I mean, just once, can't you say a normal sentence."

"How dare you…"

"Three weeks I've been here and you've avoided me as if I had some deadly decease and even when we meet by accident, you still insult me! You called me stupid and arrogant but I didn't say a single word. I was polite and respectful but I've had enough! You won't insult my father too."

"I will insult whomever I want to insult, Potter. Your father was an idiot, he was the most useless…"

"My father was a good man! He was so powerful that he had mastered wandless magic. He was so smart that he passed all his owls with outstanding results."

"No, he did not! You are delusional, Potter." Harry felt a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. He hadn't meant to say that.

"And what if he didn't? He is my father! The memories of my parents were all that kept me sane when Uncle Vernon locked me up in the cupboard and refused to let me eat! And when Dudley used me as a punch bag I thought of how they had loved me. So what if the memories weren't real? Is it a crime to imagine that my father was a perfect hero?" Harry was panting, hard. Damn. He shouldn't have said that. He hadn't meant to say all that. He was giving Snape more memories to torment him with. He needed to stop talking, now. But that was impossible. A damn had broken inside him and he couldn't stop the flow of words rushing out of his mouth. All the feelings he had kept locked inside him were pouring out.

"They're my family and yes, I know that they're dead! I hear my mother's screams at night, begging for my life!" Snape had gone quiet. He was looking at the floor, his expression hidden by shadows.

"What? You don't have anything to say now, Snape? Aren't you going to tell me that I deserved all the crap I've had to put up with? That I deserved to be starved and beaten and hated." He got no response. Snape was standing still, slowly twirling his wand between his fingers. "Why so quiet? You want to insult me? Go ahead!"

"And you know what the worst part is?" Harry's voice had gone quiet, the tears threatening to spill. With a supreme effort of will, he held them back. Snape would never see him cry. "When I went to Dumbledore, I thought that everything was over. I mean, I should have known better than to hope but I did anyway. Maybe I really am as dumb as you think me. I thought that Dumbledore cared for me, that he would make everything right. I thought that I'd no longer have to bare the hate and the insults but then, the man ships me off to live here, with _you_!"

"This lesson is terminated. Return to your room." Snape's voice was a whisper. The anger was no longer there, only weariness. He just sounded very tired.

"Even then, I was a complete dumbass and I hoped." Harry continued, ignoring his dismissal. "Dumbledore must have a reason to send me here. Maybe you aren't as bad as I thought you were. Maybe when you weren't in class, you'd be nicer. All crap! You are nothing but a sadistic bully!" Harry stormed out of the room, even forgetting his wand in his haste to get out of that there, away from Snape.


	3. A New Plan

\- HP -

"Potter?"

"Get out!" Harry shouldn't be talking like this to Snape, it was too dangerous. The third rule he had learned at the Dursleys house is that you should never talk back, not if you wanted to get fed in the morning. Right now, Harry couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Punish me all you want Snape, you're nothing but a git, a stupid sadistic git. Harry pressed his face into his pillow, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose. He was not going to cry. The git was not worth it. He was not going to cry.

How dare that damn bastard talk that way about his father. He was a good man, a brave man who fought for the Order of the Phoenix. Nothing like Snape, the evil death eater. How dare he!

"Ah!" Harry screamed into his pillow, letting out all the anger and frustration he felt. He was not going to cry. A sob welled up inside him but he forced it down.

"Potter, open the door."

"Why should I? You're going to come in anyway." Harry yelled, to his horror he felt his voice cracking. His shoulders were shaking, tears welling up inside his eyes, ready to fall at any moment. He could feel the moisture pooling up at the edges of his eyes. No! No! No! Snape won't win. He will never see Harry cry. A dry sob shook his body from head to toe. Damn it!

 _"_ _Alohamora_." Snape's cold voice whispered. The door swung open slowly, its rusty hinges creaking in protest. He could hear Snape walking into the room, his cloak bellowing after him.

"Potter, there is…" Something inside Harry broke at that moment and, to his horror and shame, he started to cry. Loud angry sobs shook his body and tears gushed out his eyes. Harry yelled and buried himself further into his pillow until he could no longer breathe. Stop! Damn it, stop! He ordered himself but it didn't stop. He continued to shake and to cry, his voice muffled by the pillow. He could feel Snape's cold eyes on him, watching. _Happy now, you sadistic bastard? Is this what you wanted? To completely humiliate me? Well, you won!_

Harry didn't know for how long he lay there, sobbing like a six year old. He could hear the minutes ticking on the simple clock hanging above his head. Snape didn't say a single word the entire time. Maybe he had left or maybe he was just standing there, watching his handiwork. Eventually Harry's sobs died down and all was quiet. The flood of tears lessened until there were only a few droplets still streaming down his cheeks. Harry let out a trembling sigh and sat up on the bed. His entire body was so heavy as if a large weight was sitting on his chest. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go back to Hogwarts which was the only home he will ever know.

"This situation is not working out." Snape whispered. Harry lifted his head slowly. His vision was blurred by the tears that had fallen on his glasses but he could still make out the figure of his professor sitting on the wooden chair, his back to the window.

"Of c..course it isn't." A hiccup interrupted his sentences. "That's not m…my fault." Harry glared through his tears, daring Snape to challenge his words, to find yet another fault with his behavior.

"No, it isn't." Snape admitted. His voice was so quiet that Harry almost missed his words. Snape's black eyes were fixed onto the floorboards, his expression thoughtful. Harry wiped his nose with the back of his hand and hugged his pillow tight to his chest. He was so tired, he felt that without his pillow he would break apart completely.

"I tried, sir. I tried to be r…respectful. I just…"

"It is hardly your fault, I never gave you a chance."

"Why?" Snape sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"As you have no doubt noticed, I am not the best teacher, Potter. I do tend to loose my temper but instead of yelling, I throw insults. I have no patience with children."

"But, you're not like this with anyone else. Just me." Snape opened his mouth but no words came out.

"Why, s…sir?" Tremors still shook his body. Harry dug his fingers into the soft fabric of the pillow, trying to keep himself together. He won't break down, not again. Once was humiliating enough. "Why do you hate me so much?" A heavy silence descended between them, interrupted only by the steady tick tock of the clock. Snape sat, still as a statue, staring at the ebony floorboards.

Outside the wind howled, swaying the strange flowers that crowded the garden. The sky was turning a mellow shade of orange as the sun slipped behind the line of mountains. Night was already creeping closer but none of them had noticed, too busy with their own internal battles.

"I do not." Snape said slowly, tasting the words.

"What?" Harry blinked, startled. He had started to believe he would never get an answer.

"I do not hate you."

"Then why do you insult me every single time we meet?" The tears on his face had dried but his nose continued to run. Harry wiped it again with the back of his hand. Snape stood up suddenly and walked towards the bed. Harry hugged his pillow, his fear of this tall dark man suddenly returning. The anger had driven away the fear but now that his anger had vanished, he remembered where he was once again. At the house of a man known for his love of the dark arts and a convicted ex death eater. Harry watched him through the corner of his eyes as he came steadily closer, his expression concealed by the curtain of hair that hung around his face. Harry fought the sudden urge to run out the door. He had nowhere left to run.

Snape stopped next to him, so close that their hands almost touched. Then, he bent down, opened the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a clean white handkerchief. He held it out in front of him for Harry to take but Harry only blinked, too shocked to move. The dour bat of the dungeons was handing him a tissue? If Harry hadn't been feeling so bloody miserable, he would have laughed.

"I assure you, I have not soaked it in poison." Harry still didn't move, his hands not wanting to let go of his pillow. With a tired sigh, Snape extended one hand and his long pale fingers cupped Harry's chin. His touch was as cold as ice but that is not why Harry gasped. It was the gentleness of that touch, something he had never felt before, not even at the hands of Mrs. Weasley. Gently, Snape used his other hand to wipe Harry's cheeks, dabbing at the soft skin. Harry held his breathe. He didn't want this moment to ever end. The fact that this was Snape, a death eater, didn't seem to matter any more. Nothing mattered except this little gesture of kindness which was more than he had ever felt. Maybe Dumbledore had been right to put him here. Maybe they could still make it work, the two of them. They could be learn to get along, after all. All they needed was time. Harry's lips curved into a smile and he looked up, his green eyes searching for Snape's black ones but something was wrong. Snape was not looking at him. Even as he carefully wiped at the edge of Harry's right eye, his gaze was elsewhere, fixed at a spot above his shoulder, his expression blank.

"Sir, look at me." Snape's thin lips drained of color as he pressed them together but his gaze didn't shift. Something was definitely wrong. "Please. Look at me." With another sigh Snape looked down, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry watched, heartbroken, as Snape's blank features morphed into a familiar expression of pure anger. _He still hates me. Nothing has changed._ This time, he didn't even attempt to stop the flow of tears that dropped onto Snape's fingers. Snape let go of his chin as if the salt tears had burned his skin. The handkerchief fell, useless, onto the grey bedsheet. Harry had thought that he had gotten used to being hated long ago. After all, he did have lots and lots of practice but as it turns out, it still hurts like hell.

Snape walked backwards until his back hit the wall.

"Oh, Christ!" He whispered massaging his temple as if trying to banish a stubborn headache. Snape was trying to look anywhere but at the small boy sitting on the bed, crying his eyes out. "I cannot do this. I cannot be who you want me to be. Damn Dumbledore, the meddlesome fool!"

"W…why, sir? Why do you h…hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you, child! Its just that you look…" His voice trailed away, the sentence left abandoned. "Oh, Christ, I cannot do this."

"Tell me! What is it about my face that you hate so much?" Harry yelled, his grip on the pillow so strong that his knuckles were turning white. "Is it my eye color? Does it creep you out? Is it my hair? Is it too messy? Tell me!" Snape was silent, his face buried in his hands.

"I could wear contact lenses. I could gel my hair back and maybe even dye it blond, just like Malfoy. You like Malfoy, don't you?" Harry threw the pillow at the floor, wishing that it was something more fragile, something that would break apart, just like him. "Tell me what to do!"

"This is not right." Snape was shaking his head. "You should not have been put in this position. You deserve to have a family, someone who will take good care of you. Like the Weasleys or nearly all the other professors at the school. Even Hagrid would be a better choice than me and the man bakes rock cakes! What was Dumbledore thinking?"

"The Weasleys would have been glad to have me. I would've had a mother, a father, a sister and lots of brothers. If only I had been allowed to stay there."

"You know what, Potter. This ends here. This very moment I'm going to Dumbledore and telling him to take you away from here and give you to the Weasleys like he should have done from the start." Snape spun around and stomped out the door. "Don't worry, Potter. I'll fix this ridiculous mess." The door slammed shut behind him.

\- SS -

Damn Dumbledore. He is nothing but an old fool and an idiot. Severus had stormed into his office and told him everything that had happened: the disastrous defense lessons, the insults, the yelling and the tears. But nothing had mattered. The man simply refused to remove the boy from his house. In the end, Dumbledore had stated that if Severus didn't keep the boy, he would be sent back to the Dursleys, the place where he was starved and beaten.

Severus took out a ridiculously elegant crystal glass, a Christmas gift from the Malfoys, and poured himself a generous dose of firewhisky. He tipped his head back and drank the contents in one swallow. The alcohol burned as it made its way down his throat. This drink was extra strong, like all the drinks Snape kept locked up in his house for a particularly stressful day. Lately, h's had a lot of those, all thanks to Potter. No. That was wrong. It certainly wasn't the boy's fault that Severus couldn't stand the sight of him. It wasn't his fault that the moment Severus looked at that all too familiar face, the anger inside him rose out of control. If anyone was to blame, it was Albus Dumbledore, the man who had dumped the boy at his doorsteps despite knowing that Severus would hurt him. Merlin, he had made the boy cry! A small vulnerable eleven-year old boy. What the hell had he become?

He remembered the way the boy had lain on the bed, sobbing as if his body would break. He had done that. He had caused that pain. The child had looked so small, clutching his pillow to his chest, dwarfed by the enormous bed. All he wanted was a family, something that Severus could not give him. He had tried to be comforting, he had dried the boy's face as he remembered his mother doing a long time ago. It had almost worked before he looked at the boy's face again. Then, all he saw was James Potter. Oh, Christ, what was the matter with him?

The pale orange liquid swished into the glass as he poured himself a second dose of firewhiskey, wanting that sweet moment of oblivion where he wouldn't have to confront what he had done. It is funny how even now, after he had joined the Order of the Phoenix and done everything in his power to aid the light, he still ended up right here, trying to drown his guilt in alcohol. It almost felt like the old days, again.

"Sweetie, you shouldn't drink so much, you know. It's not good for your health." The glass froze half way to Severus's lips.

"Professor Sprout?" Severus placed the glass on the nearest table and went to help his professor out of her coat. She always wore such a heavy coat that her arms struck out comically at her sides. She couldn't stand the cold. "What might you be doing here?"

"Why, Severus, I came to see how you were doing, of course… ah, that's better." She was finally out of her coat and she rubbed her hands together, glad to be able to use them again. Specks of dirt that always clung to the herbology professor's clothes, fluttered to the ground, staining the pitch black carpet. "I heard that Dumbledore has forced you to take care of Harry and, of course, that can't be easy for either of you." Severus nodded solemnly. He flicked his wand at the fireplace making bright orange flames spring to life. Suddenly the room was bright. Too bright. Severus fought the urge to retreat into the safety of the shadows.

"Oh, there is no need for a fire, sweetie. I know how much you can't stand bright light."

"That's quite alright, professor."

"I'll just the dim the flames anyway." A flick of her wand and the bright flames shrunk in size, getting lower and lower until there was nothing but glowing coals. "There we go. Now tell me, Severus, how have you been doing."

"Rather well."

"Nonsense, my child. It is obvious that something is upsetting you." Severus felt his lips curling upwards in a small smile.

"You know, Professor, I haven't been a child in quite some time."

"But you are still much younger than me, sweetie, and that means to me, at least, you'll always be a child." Severus snorted. Hufflepuffs. What can you do?

"And anyway, you are avoiding the subject. What is upsetting you?" Professor Sprout sat down in a large plush armchair in front of the fireplace. It was bright orange and completely hideous, not to mention the fact that it did not suit his dark and dour personality at all. He always meant to throw it away but somehow, the knowledge that it was Professor Sprout's favorite stopped him.

"It is merely the usual. Dark memories returning. I'm sure that by now you are quite tired of hearing me say this."

"What nonsense, Severus! You know perfectly well that I'm always here when you want to talk. It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside." Severus sat down in the chair next to his professor. He would never admit it, not even to himself but sometimes he felt that without Professor Sprout always there for him, he might not have survived all his trials. From the very first Herbology lesson, when she had instantly become his favorite teacher, she had been there to help him. Even when he had allied himself with the Dark Lord, she had come knocking at his door. She had always brought a basket full of freshly baked muffins with her. They had been coated with dark chocolate. His favorite. Severus flicked his wand and a plate of cakes popped up in front of Professor Sprout.

"Oh! Cakes filled with strawberry jam, my favorites!" Severus smiled at the old woman as she clapped her hands together and dug into the plate of cakes without further invitation. "Now, you better hope this isn't another attempt to change the subject, Severus?"

"I had thought, Professor, that eating a plate full of cakes would be preferable to hearing the mundane events of my everyday life." Snape smirked mischievously as he leaned back on his chair, getting comfortable.

"Oh, I can perfectly well do both, child." Professor Sprout took a large bite out of the cake. Severus watched as her small chestnut brown eyes lit up in approval. He did make a fantastic jam cake. Not that he ever said so aloud. He did have a reputation to uphold.

"I would much rather not dwell on what is upsetting me, Professor." Snape sighed internally, his good humor at seeing his beloved professor vanishing as he remembered what had just taken place. What was the child doing now? Was he still crying or had he finally fallen asleep?

"Severus, what did you do?"

"And why would you assume I did anything, professor?"

"Because usually when you want to avoid something, it means that you're covering up guilt." Severus forced himself to maintain a blank expression. It unsettled him, sometimes, how easily Professor Sprout could read him. He was spying on the darkest wizard the world had ever known. He was supposed to be unreadable!

"You should not be surprised, Professor. You more than anyone else should know what I'm capable of." Oh, yes, she should. He had told her things that would unsettle the strongest man. He had done things that made what had just passed with Potter seem like a trifle. Sometimes, Severus wondered whether he was wrong to tell her all this, burdening her with his sins. But how could he refuse when she offered so sweetly? The temptation to lighten even a small portion of his burden was just too much.

"Come, Severus, it can't be that bad. Tell me." For another second, Severus hesitated. Reluctant to show one of the few people he really cared about how dark his heart really was. It shouldn't matter. She has heard of sins a thousand times worse than this but still, in the last few years, he had been surprisingly normal. His dark side had lain quiet but with Potter's arrival last year, it has reared its ugly head. Severus took a deep breathe and told her everything, starting with the nightmares that simply would not leave him alone and ending with Potter crying on the bed.

"… and in conclusion, I am a monster. Of course, I had already known that simple fact years ago but it is rather refreshing to have it confirmed every now and again."

"Oh, Severus, you are most certainly not a monster!" Professor Sprout exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on his knee. Severus huffed.

"Only a Hufflepuff could ever deny what I truly am."

"Then, I have never been prouder of being a Hufflepuff. You are not a monster, Severus, and I hate that you think of yourself like that. You are a good person." Severus snorted internally. _Merlin preserve me from Hufflepuff logic!_

"The very notion is laughable really but assuming that I am indeed a good person, how do you explain the heartbroken orphan boy?"

"This is hard for you, Severus. I realize that and you should too. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? You have bags under your eyes and you have grown even thinner than usual. Why, you look as if a hearty wind could break you in two? When is the last time you've had a good night's rest?" Severus was grateful beyond words when he felt warm hands enclosing his ice-cold ones in a firm grip. It was true. His mind was groggy with exhaustion but he had never allowed himself to admit it. He hated weakness.

"What do I do, Professor? The poor child needs a father. That is something I cannot be. I cannot even look at him without insulting him. I never mean to! I don't want to hurt the boy but every time I look at that mess of hair on his head, those abominable round glasses and those maddening features, I just loose all control! What do I do, Professor Sprout?" Severus looked at that face, wearing such a familiar expression of concern and he couldn't help but believe that she would solve everything. He felt like a small child again, unshaken in his belief that his mother would fix all the hurt in the world.

"Well, Severus. Let me tell you something. I used to be horribly frightened of heights. You couldn't get me on a broomstick even if my life depended on it." Severus frowned lightly, wondering were this was going. "My sister, as you know, is an excellent flyer and she wouldn't stop mocking me about my fear. She used to make chicken sounds whenever I entered the room. It was horrible! One day, I decided that I had enough. I would get over my fear, no matter what. I climbed to the top of the astronomy tower with a broomstick clutched in one hand."

"Don't tell me you planned on jumping from the tower when you did not even know how to fly. That would have been an idiotic thing to do."

"Well, I had thought that if I face my fear head on, I would conquer it, so instead of starting out with something smaller, I thought that jumping out of the tallest tower at Hogwarts was a great idea." She pointedly ignored Severus's amused huff. "I mounted my broom and without giving myself time to think, I jumped."

"Are you quite sure you are not a Gryffindor, professor?"

"Anyway, long story short, if Minerva hadn't been down there holding her wand, I would have crashed to the ground. You see, I was too frightened to even open my eyes, let alone fly."

"Let me guess. After this disastrous failure, you never went anywhere near a broomstick again?"

"On the contrary, Severus. I just found a new way to get over my fear of heights. I dealt with my problem gradually. First, learning to look down from the third floor window, then gangling my legs over the ledge of the fifth floor window. I gradually got used to high altitudes and I was able to fly just as high as my annoying sister. Do you understand what I mean, Severus?"

"To be sure, it is a lovely story, Professor, but although I believe that Quidditch is the most useless pastimes invented by man, I have no fear of heights."

"What I meant, child, is that if you allow yourself to gradually get used to little Harry, you might stop yourself from being completely unsettled by him. you can't bare to look at him because he awakens dark memories of his father so what if you slowly build new memories centered around Harry, not his father?"

"But I have tried to spend time with him and it did not work. I have found it best to avoid the boy entirely."

"It didn't work because you were trying to handle too much. A four hour lesson is not a good idea. It is like jumping from the Astronomy tower."

"It was Dumbledore's idea!"

"I know, sweetie, but he was wrong. You need to get used to Harry. A simple breakfast together will be enough for one day. Next day, you might try giving him a brief defense lesson, no more than an hour."

"But he needs to learn how to defend himself as quickly as possible." Professor Sprout nodded, giving his long thin fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"I'll tell you what, Severus. Why don't I take over the lessons for now? He is still learning the most basic of spells and even I know how to do those. Then, when you and Harry have learned to get along, you'll take over the lessons again. Meanwhile, get out of the house! Go find your friends. When is the last time you went to visit the Malfoys?"

Severus's brows knitted as he thought about Professor Sprout's solution. Gradually getting to know Potter. No, it was Harry. He had to think of him as Harry if he decided to try this out. Would this work or will he just end up hurting the boy again? Can he keep the anger and pain at bay? Severus vowed to himself that he will not make that child cry again. If the dark memories were threatening to return he had to simply get up and leave the room. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, this just might work. What other choice did he have


	4. Getting Along

\- HP-

Harry knew the moment he saw Snape's face the next morning that things had not gone according to plan. Dumbledore hasn't agreed to send him away to the Weasleys. Harry wasn't surprised. After all, he had practically begged the headmaster to let him stay with his friend all those weeks ago but that hadn't happened. He would never change his mind.

"Sit down." Snape indicated a chair on the dinning table. He was sitting down with a newspaper open in front of him just like he was when Dumbledore came to visit them yesterday. But the atmosphere was different. The shutters had been drawn once more and the room was in semi darkness, only illuminated by a few dim yellow globes floating above the table. Harry took a seat and waited for Snape to break out the news he had already figured out.

"I spoke with the headmaster last night but unfortunately, his mind still remains unchanged." Harry felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks at the thought of last night. He had acted like a baby, crying out, begging for Snape to like him. Oh, Merlin, he wished he could forget it ever happened.

"That's alright, Professor. I didn't expect anything to really change." Snape nodded, looking at Harry doubtfully as if trying to figure out what Harry was really feeling. "Really, professor, it's alright. I acted a bit silly last night. Sure, you were mean but you did take care of me. You made sure that I was fed and you didn't downright kick me out which is more than I expected. I'm sorry I talked to you that way, sir."

"It was rather understandable given the circumstances." Snape folded the newspaper and placed it gingerly on the table. "It is quite clear that me giving you defense lessons is certainly not a functional idea."

"But where will I learn to defend myself, sir?"

"For the time being, Professor Sprout will be your instructor. She is competent enough to teach you the basic skills that are needed at this early stage. After a certain time, I will take over your lessons once more." Harry nodded, relieved at the unexpected news. Professor Sprout. Harry didn't know her too well but he liked her. Most people did. She was one of those people with a friendly face and a quick smile that nobody could help liking.

"You will still review what you have done with me at different intervals of time."

"That seems alright, sir." Harry bit his lip, trying to decide whether to ask a question or not. Normally, he wouldn't dare. Snape would have bitten his head off before he could even finish the sentence, but today he seemed unusually civil. Maybe after what happened last night, he would try to be nicer. Harry remembered how tired Snape had looked as he sat at his bedside last night. But still, this was Snape. It was better not to poke the sleeping dragon.

"Do go ahead." Snape said, pouring himself a glass of water.

"What?"

"It is rather obvious you want to ask a question so I suggest you do so before your head explodes from over thinking."

"Erm… Okay. I just wanted to know why we're going over so much information, sir."

"It seems rather obvious. The objective is to keep the Dark Lord and his followers from blowing you off the face of the earth." He cut into a sausage and took a minuscule bite. It was only then that Harry noticed the food on the table and his stomach grumbled in answer. He quickly piled his plate with sausages and eggs.

"I know I need Defense against the Dark Arts but why are we going over all the subjects? What do Potions and Herbology have anything to do with defense?"

"Most of the subjects that you learn in school are interrelated and can aid you should you be under attack. For example, if a death eater decides to poison you instead of openly attacking, you must know which antidote to use. If you are attacked by a non human entity such as a Griffin or a Sphinx, you must know how to defeat them, hence the importance of Care of Magical Creatures. The Dark Lord's followers have countless weapons at their disposal, not only their wands." Harry nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of eggs. It made sense now. It was much better when his professor explained everything instead of jabbing commands in his direction.

"Although why they bother to try to kill you is absolutely beyond me. If they simply wait long enough one of your dangerous stunts will get you killed before they lay a finger on you."

"Hey! I would never do anything to get myself killed." Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"So the mountain troll you defeated, the baby dragon you delivered to Charlie Weasley and the three headed dog you faced were merely a figment of my imagination?"

"Okay, those things were a bit dangerous…"

"Your idea of 'a bit' is certainly different from mine."

"But the point is I had no choice. I had to save Hermione from the troll and Hagrid from getting caught with an illegal dragon and I definitely had to stop Voldemort from getting the stone."

"No, you certainly did not have to do any of those things. You could have contacted a professor with this information or even a prefect. They would have helped. After all that is what they are there for. Did you think that we prowled the corridors merely to add to the decorations?"

"But we did speak to Professor McGonagall! We told her that Snape was after the stone but she didn't listen." Snape glanced up at him and raised a single eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving upwards faintly.

"Erm… I … Ah… meant Quirrell. Professor Quirrell was after the stone. Professor McGonagall didn't believe us so we had to try and get to the stone first."

"What did your head of house say when you told her of your doubts?"

"She told me that the stone was very well protected."

"Exactly. It was protected by Dumbledore himself and I don't need to tell you that his defenses are nearly impossible to break through."

"But Quirrell did find the stone!"

"Only because you were there and the stone came into your pocket. If you had stayed safely in bed like any other student worrying about your exams and nothing more, Quirrell would never have found the stone. He would have seen himself holding the stone but he never would have found it."

"Oh." Harry blinked. He had never thought of things that way. Snape was right. The stone had never been in any danger. So he had risked his own life not to mention Ron and Hermione's simply because he didn't want to listen to his professor. He had thought that three eleven year old students would have a better chance at defeating a dark wizard than an enter team of qualified wizards. Harry flushed and looked down at his breakfast, suddenly feeling very foolish. So if the stone had never been in any danger, why had Dumbledore awarded Gryffindor house so many points? Was the headmaster just humoring him?

"I do admit that the fault does not lie entirely with you." Snape continued. "Minerva's idea of awarding points for challenging a troll to a duel is simply idiotic. If anyone from my house had done something so foolish, he would have been scrubbing cauldrons all weekend."

"I didn't know you gave detentions to your own house. I always thought you let them get away with anything."

"Hardly. I care about my students and I take their safety very seriously. Granted, most of them know better than to head straight towards dangerous situations but if they ever do, I remind them very clearly that it is not to be done. Their life is too important to loose." Harry nodded, feeling strangely jealous. It must be nice to have an adult watch over you, caring enough about you to stop you from getting hurt. Harry never had that. Part of the reason why he never went to an adult with his problems was because he didn't trust them. He believed that if there was a problem he was the only one capable of solving it. What must it feel like to not worry about everything because there is a person, older and wiser than you, who will help you out?

"Do they really do that, sir? If they are in trouble, do they come to you?"

"Yes. I help them out in difficult situations. Children such as yourself should not worry about the fate of the world. That burden should fall into the hands of responsible adults who are capable of bearing the weight."

"Sir?" Harry asked quietly, distractedly twiddling his fork in his hands.

"Yes?"

"Do any of these students have problems like mine?"

"If you mean do they have a Dark Lord and his entire army trying to kill them, then I am afraid the answer is no."

"No." Harry bit his lip. He shouldn't say what was on his mind. It made him seem needy and pathetic but Snape was being so reasonable. Harry had never been this relaxed with the man before. Besides, Harry had a strange feeling that he could trust Snape to always tell him the truth, no matter how unpleasant it could be. "I meant, have any of them come to you with family problems?" Snape nodded, slowly.

"There have been cases like yours. I have known many children with families that did not deserve them."

"And what happened to them?"

"I made sure that they were adopted by caring families. Most of them went to become part of their best friend's family." Harry gulped, feeling a familiar sense of betrayal. Why didn't Professor Dumbledore do that for him? That was all he had wanted.

"Professor, what if I had been sorted into your house? If I had come to you with my problem, would you have found a caring family for me?" Snape's fork froze halfway to his mouth. A drop of grease dripped from the piece of sausage onto his plate and disappeared into the egg yolk. He slowly put the fork down and looked at Harry right in the eye. His usually cold black eyes looked almost sympathetic. Harry had never seen the man look at him this way before, with no dislike or loathing etched into his features. It was a nice change but it lasted only a moment. Snape shifted his gaze back onto the table, his eyes examining a minuscule chip on the dark wood. Harry jabbed his fork into his egg rather forcefully.

"You are a special case. Your connection to the Dark Lord makes you of special interest to the headmaster. You are not merely a student but also a valuable asset to the war. Whatever happens to you will be directly dictated by Albus Dumbledore." Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. There it was. Brutal honesty. Snape would never sugarcoat anything. He would give the truth as it was without softening the blow. Harry wondered whether that was why all the students hated him so much. The truth can hurt.

Harry was not just a child, he was a weapon to be sharpened and prepared. He thought that Dumbledore might be different, he might see Harry as more than the scar marring his forehead, but lately he suspected that this was not the case. Why would Dumbledore send him here if not to toughen him up? He was preparing his weapon for battle. Snape was the only one with enough decency to admit it.

The forks and knives clinked on the porcelain plate, the small sound ringing loudly in the silent house. Snape eyes were lowered on his plate giving Harry enough time to stare at his features. Was it really true? Did Snape's students really come to him if something went wrong? Harry had always assumed that every student within the walls of Hogwarts was terrified of the man. There was even a rumor going around the school that he was a vampire. Ernest McCorley, a Hufflepuff in his year, refused to go to the dungeons without a clove of garlic hanging, large and ugly, around his neck. It was certainly a surprise to hear that a fourth of the school didn't run away at the mere sight of him.

Harry watched Snape's face, half covered in shadow. His pale skin looked faintly yellow in this dim light like old parchment stretched tight over a canvas of bone. His face held no expression as if there were no thoughts floating around in his mind and he was nothing but an automated machine with no feeling. He held his body stiff, his movements quiet and minimal. His high collared cloak and his long hair falling over the sides of his face, covered as much skin as humanly possible. A man shrouded in black. Even now, Harry felt a prickle of fear as he stared at Snape but something had changed. Despite his death like appearance, Harry had seen his mask fall. Snape didn't seem to be that bad, not when he was being civil.

"I am heading to your previous home this afternoon." Snape's baritone voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up at Harry's face for the briefest instant before dropping his gaze. Harry felt a vague sense of disappointment. "Official papers ending their position as your legal guardians must still be signed."

"Oh. Okay then." Harry blinked as the information dawned on him. Snape was going to Private Drive. The fact was strangely odd. They belonged to different worlds that were never supposed to meet. He wondered what Aunt Petunia might think when Snape stood at their doorsteps, glaring down at her and upsetting all the neighbors.

"Is there anything that you wish me to retrieve from your old home." Harry's thoughts drifting back to his cupboard under the stairs. There was nothing there but broken toys and piles of smuggled food slowly rotting unseen under the floorboards. Harry had forgotten completely about them. He should have retrieved them when he packed his meager things and left for good. There were apples, bread, cakes and Harry recalled even a yogurt he had quickly stuffed in a corner the last night he had spent there, thinking of eating it in the morning. Surely it must have gone sour and moldy by now. Would the smell of the decaying food drift out of the cupboard and invade Aunt Petunia's perfect home? A picture of warms crawling out of the apples hidden in different places of the house formed in Harry's mind. He saw them wriggling along the polished floors he had spent hours cleaning, spots of black decay on the perfect white tiles. They would borrow under the large burgundy couch in front of the TV where he was never allowed to sit. They would…

"Potter?" Snape was looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry, sir. I was lost in memories." He nodded and looked back down at his food.

"I seem to recall you still haven't answered my question."

"No thank you, Professor. There's nothing else I'd like from home. Not unless…" Harry remembered a stack of slim comic books sitting under his pillow, well concealed from sight. They were old and half broken, the bright colors of the pictures had lost their luster until they were all a dull grey. Still, he had loved flipping through them, their pictures giving him a brief respite from his hard life. He couldn't really ask Snape to take them though, they weren't his. At least not officially. He had slipped them out of Dudley's big collection years ago. The oaf hadn't even noticed they were missing.

"Unless what?" Snape raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to continue, but his voice was brisk, as if he was quickly loosing his patience with Harry's retarded half answers.

"Nothing. There were a few comic books under my pillow and I used to love them. I read them every chance I got."

"Comic books?" Snape raised an eyebrow, looking at him with an almost amused expression. Of course, with him, it was impossible to tell for sure.

"Yeah. They're this sort of Muggle version of…"

"I know perfectly well what a comic book is. I was merely expressing my astonishment at anyone choosing to read such utter nonsense."

"Hey, I thought you were starting to be nice!" Harry exclaimed before he had a chance to stop himself.

"I was merely expressing an opinion, Potter." Snape shook his head slightly. "Merlin help me from oversensitive Gryffindors!"

"I'm not oversensitive." Snape choose to ignore Harry's muttered words.

"I shall retrieve these comic books for you this afternoon."

"But you can't. They aren't really mine. They're just borrowed." Harry added hastily, thinking that the truth wouldn't sit well with Snape.

"Then might I ask, what is the point of mentioning them?"

"Its just something that popped into my mind." Harry shrugged, returning his focus back on his eggs. For a moment, they both returned to finishing their breakfast in silence, giving Harry enough time to mull over his feelings about Dumbledore. He had lived for the last ten years in a cupboard surrounded by people who hated him and Dumbledore was the one who put him there. Did he really not know how bad it was for him or did he just not care? Maybe Dumbledore even approved of how the Dursleys treated him. Maybe he thought that pain and loneliness and fear would make him stronger, mold him into a warrior. Maybe he wanted Harry to be starved and unwanted. Maybe he wanted Snape to be cruel to him and…

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep unsteady breath. The food sat heavy and greasy in his stomach. _No._ He told himself firmly. _I must be wrong._ Dumbledore cannot be so unfeeling. He cares at least a little bit. He must!

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore has a reason for sending me here." Harry voiced his thoughts aloud hoping for some reassurance. "Maybe he just wants us to get along."

"Perhaps." Snape conceded, his brow furrowing lightly. "The headmaster is known to have grand plans, plans that none but him can understand." Well. That could be taken for reassurance.

"Tell me about it. He's always so cryptic. I mean, half the things that come out of his mouth make no sense to me at all." The corners of Snape's lips twitched unexpectedly.

"I rather think that no one can make sense of his words simply because they have no meaning." Harry was surprised at the affectionate note in Snape's voice. Despite his words, Snape was fond of Dumbledore. Harry couldn't explain why but that made him feel so much better.

"But they have to mean something! He's the most powerful wizard in the world. Isn't everything that comes out of his mouth supposed to be really deep and meaningful?"

"Hardly. That is merely what he wants everybody to believe. He speaks in riddles to impress people and not because they have any special meaning. I suspect that they are nothing but rubbish." There it was again. The twitching at the corner of Snape's lips as if he was trying to suppress a smile.

"How long have you been working for Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked. It was only a harmless question, an attempt to understand the powerful wizard but it had been the wrong thing to say. Snape's eyes snapped up to his face and Harry could see a brief flash of anger.

"And what reason would you have to ask such a question, Potter?"

"No reason." Harry backtracked immediately, surprised by the sudden change of tone. Snape called him Potter again. That really can't be good.

"Did you wish to interrogate me on my loyalties?"

"What? No!" Harry's eyes went wide. He hadn't even been thinking of that. "It's just that you seem to like Dumbledore and I was curious to know how close the two of you are. I mean, you don't really get along with most people." Well, that really was a dumb thing to say. Harry flushed and went on talking, trying to cover his blunder.

"I didn't mean that you aren't likable or anything. I'm sure you're a very likable person with lots of friends." Snape raised a single eyebrow and sat back on his chair, watching Harry.

"Not that it's bad to not have any friends!" Harry continued, feeling more like a fool every minute. "Being a lone wolf is cool too."

"Are you implying that I have no friends?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed "I'm sure you have a great social life."

"Ah." Snape crossed his arms across his chest. "So in your bountiful wisdom, you believe I spend my weekends at a local pub. Perhaps getting drunk and singing at the top of my lungs."

"Of course not! I wouldn't just…" The left corner of Snape's lips lifted in a faint semblance of a smile. "You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Hardly. I never laugh." He replied returning to his breakfast. Harry smiled and poured himself some pumpkin juice. Yes. Snape really wasn't that bad.

"The answer was eleven years."

"What?" Harry blinked, having already forgotten his previous question.

"I have been employed by the headmaster for eleven years."

"Oh." That was a really long time. Harry couldn't understand what it felt like to know someone for that long. He was beginning to get curious. Dumbledore had always been such a mystery, a man of wisdom who was so far above everybody else. Harry had felt a connection to him at the end of last year but after he was sent to live here, that connection had quickly dissolved. He no longer considered Dumbledore to be the perfect hero but that didn't prevent Harry from wanting to know more about him. Was he the cold hearted strategist or the kind, caring grandfather?

"Are the two of you friends?"

"Of a sort." Snape replied, his blank mask drawn over his face once more. Harry frowned, sensing that something was not quite right. Before, he had heard a note of fondness in his tone when he was speaking of Dumbledore but maybe he was mistaken. At breakfast, Dumbledore had been oddly sharp with his potion master.

"Don't you guys get along?" Snape spared Harry a brief glance. For a moment he was silent, his long pale finger trailing along the edge of his cup. Harry bit his lip, feeling a brief stab of guilt. He really shouldn't have brought it up. Obviously it was a personal matter and he should know better than to push. Snape was his teacher and he deserved respect. Harry mustn't forget that simple fact. He opened his lips to apologize but Snape started talking.

"We often have differences of opinion and angry words are exchanged." Snape spoke slowly, weighing every word. "And yet we are close. Not precisely a friend since the age difference is too great to permit such familiarity but more like a mentor. I know more of him than most." Harry shouldn't press. He really shouldn't. Snape was clearly not comfortable talking about Dumbledore and he should just let the matter drop. But he couldn't. He had to know more, he had to know the truth about the headmaster and who better to ask than Snape.

"What is he like, sir? Does he…?" How can Harry ask this question? "Is he a good person?" That wasn't the right question. Harry wanted to know whether Dumbledore actually cared for him or whether he was just another pawn in the great battle. He wanted to know whether he could trust Dumbledore but he just couldn't ask that directly. Besides he didn't trust Snape yet either, not fully.

"Yes, he is a good person. He is a better person than almost everyone I have met and yet he has a great burden to bare. He is faced everyday with difficult decisions and his choices can sometimes seem…" Snape paused, searching for the right word. "cruel." Harry thought he saw a flash of pain in Snape's black eyes, as if he knew all too well how cruel the headmaster could be.

"He has millions of people depending on him." Snape continued, his eyes glued onto the clear water sitting still in his tall glass. He was staring at the distorted reflection on its smooth surface. "He is, after all, the leader who fights against the forces of the Dark Lord. He does not like it. In fact, he hates it but he has to make certain… sacrifices. He has to sacrifice the well being of a few for the good of the many. It might seem wrong but it is, nonetheless, necessary." Snape's words could have referred to Harry but somehow, he doubted it. Snape was speaking of himself.

"Was that what he did to you?" Harry asked, watching him closely. Snape looked up slowly, their eyes meeting. His expression was a careful blank, each face muscle under tight control.

"What?"

"Did Professor Dumbledore sacrifice your well being for the good of the many?" For a split second, Snape's mask crumpled and Harry saw a glimpse of complete surprise in his face. Surprise and fear. "Did he betray your trust in him and left you feeling like you were worthless in his eyes?"

"I do not know what you are insinuating, Potter." Snape was still, his voice even, his expression blank.

"You do know what I'm talking about, you just don't want to admit it."

"I have work to do. Professor Sprout will be here in…"

"Did he hurt you and pretend it was all for the greater good?" Snape gasped, his expression turning into sudden fury. He stood up abruptly, his chair scrapping along the floor. Damn it. Harry should not have said that. He really should not have said that. Snape's shadow loomed, long and wide completely covering Harry's slender frame. Snape didn't just look angry, he looked dangerous.

"I… I'm…" The words died on his tongue as he watched Snape's eyes blazing with fury and hate. His long slender fingers were twitching as if he wished to close them around Harry's neck and squeeze every drop of life out of him.

"Potter." Snape hissed, injecting the word with venom. "You are an insolent…" He snapped his mouth shut so violently, his teeth knocked together. Without another word Snape spun around and strode out of the room, almost running away from Harry.

\- HP-

Hot water poured out of the faucet and splashed onto Harry's fingers. He jumped backwards with a sudden yelp. He should pay more attention to what he was doing instead of obsessing over Snape. He turned on the cold water tap and waited for the temperature to even out. Steam still rose from the water swirling down the drain so he waited, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. He needed to do something. He needed to make himself stop thinking.

He had come downstairs wanting to find something to clean, hoping to find some way to make up for his words at breakfast. When he found the dirty dishes sitting in the kitchen he had immediately started scrubbing. A habit he had acquired at the Dursleys. He felt like an idiot. Snape had been nothing but nice to him and he had ruined everything. The next time he saw his professor, he would apologize. He would tell Snape what an idiot he had been and that he would never ever dig into his professor's personal life again.

Why had he pressed the man? He saw that Snape was getting angry but he had still questioned him, almost goading him to respond. Why? Harry scrubbed the smooth porcelain surface of the plate furiously, not noticing that it was already clean.

"Potter? Why are you doing the dishes?" Snape stood at the doorway to the kitchen with his hands crossed in front of his chest. Harry turned around and looked at him with hands covered in soap bubbles. He seemed his normal impassive self, all traces of the earlier anger forgotten.

"Professor Snape, I'm really…" Snape shook his head sharply, looking him straight in the eye. He was asking Harry to just drop the matter, to forget it had ever happened. Harry was confused but he let it go. He was more than happy to obey his wish. "I thought I'd lend a hand clearing up." He finished lamely.

Snape lifted his wand and almost lazily flicked it at the dishes. Immediately the kitchen was brought to life. Water from the tap gushed out at full speed. The plate in Harry's hand whisked out of his fingers and flew under the flow of water. The bottle of soap slipped out of his left hand and started pouring itself over the other dirty dishes. A strap of cloth sailed out of the hook on the wall and started drying the washed glasses.

"Oh! I forgot about magic." A cupboard above his head flew open and the glasses sailed gracefully in the air and settled down neatly into their proper places.

"Unless you are willing to give yourself a detention, leave the cleaning to magic. It is a privilege of being a wizard, after all." Harry smiled and rinsed his hands off. Snape wasn't angry anymore. He hadn't ruined everything by his careless words. That was all that mattered.

"I keep everything neat and clean at all times. Speaking of which, why are you still wearing those rags. Is it one of those youth fashions that I will never comprehend?"

"No, sir." Harry looked at his hands, unwilling to look his professor in the eye. "It's just that… my only cloths are all like the ones I'm wearing. I have school uniforms but it's odd wearing them when I'm at home." Harry shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "They're just Dudley's hand me downs. The Dursleys didn't really want to buy me anything new." Silence greeted his sentence. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly as he patted his hands dry. He still couldn't look his professor in the eye. He felt so pathetic. Why hadn't he bought normal clothes at Diagon Alley? He had a entire vault full of gold but he was still wearing rags? If he had half a brain, he would have bought some decent clothes and avoided this awkward moment.

"Then I shall have to arrange a day to escort you to Diagon Alley." Harry nodded, glad Snape hadn't pressed the issue. Whenever Hermione heard of the way the Dursleys had treated him, she always fussed and made a big deal, her eyes watering with pity. Harry knew that his friend cared for him and meant well but the pity still stung, making him want to run out the door and hide under the safety of the bed.

"When do you wish to make the trip?" Snape asked.

"Any time's fine. I never have anything to do so I'm literally always free."

"Sometime next Thursday is the only option for me. Thursday perhaps."

"That's fine."

"Meanwhile, there might be a chance that I will make a brief visit to Diagon Alley this afternoon. Is there anything you want me to buy for you?" Snape was being extra helpful today. Asking to retrieve his things from the Dursleys, wanting to buy stuff for him at Diagon Alley. Harry wondered whether Snape pitied him too. Was that why he had changed so much this morning. Was he indulging the poor orphan child who couldn't do anything right. Harry shook his head, he was having a great day so far, better than he had in weeks. He would not ruin it with these gloomy thoughts.

"Well, I wouldn't mind some paint. Red and gold would do nicely." Harry stated, thinking of an idea he had when he woke up this morning. It was something that would help keep all those gloomy thoughts at bay, making him remember the great things of his life. He needed that, especially since he had a habit of falling into melancholia at the slightest notice. "I'll give you the key to my vault."

"Why?" Snape snapped. Harry blinked, not understanding the Professor's sudden change of tone. He seemed angry when only moment ago he had been completely normal. At least, normal for him.

"So you can get the money…"

"That is not what I meant." Snape looked towards the window. His eyes were focused on a small chink in the shutters. They weren't fully closed. There was a line of light right at the center as if sunlight was trying its best to slip through that minuscule opening. "Why would you want red and gold paint, Potter?"

"I… I just thought." Harry stuttered, surprised at Snape' hardened voice. "I wanted to draw something and pin it to the wall."

"What did you want to draw?" Snape's lips had thinned and his eyes were still focused on the chink of light, avoiding Harry's face. What had gone wrong?

"I thought maybe a few red and gold lions…" Harry saw Snape's chest heave slightly as he took a deep breathe, as if attempting to calm himself down. From what? Harry hadn't said anything offensive. At least, he didn't think so. "Or maybe not. If it's not okay with you I can just..."

"No, Potter." Snape stated. His voice had returned back to his normal uneven tone but Harry had the feeling he was trying very hard to keep it that way. He could sense the anger boiling underneath the still surface.

"Why should it not be okay with me? You are, after all, a Gryffindor through and through. Why should you not have lions painted all around your room?" Snape stated bitterly.

"If it's not okay with you, I don't have to…"

"I am completely indifferent to your choice of decorations." He certainly didn't seem indifferent. Harry wished he knew what was going on inside that man's head. What had angered him so suddenly? Was he still angry at what happened at breakfast.

"Professor, I'm sorry about…"

"Come along, Potter. Professor Sprout will be here shortly for your morning lessons."

What the heck had just happened? Harry went over the previous conversation in his mind, wishing he hadn't brought up the paint. Was Snape angry with him again or had he been angry all along underneath that guarded exterior? Was he going to return to insulting him every time they met? Harry felt his eyes watering, as he saw his hopes shattered in front of him once again. No. He was just being silly and oversensitive. Snape was being prickly but that was only normal. A man can't change his nature. That did not mean that he and Snape wouldn't be able to get along. Harry just had to be extra careful around him next time and not take his words too much to heart.

"Come along, Potter." Snape called from up ahead and Harry increased his pace. Harry ran to catch up as the Professor strode down the corridor. The man walked fast, if you could even call that walking. His feet were covered by his billowing robes and he didn't make a single sound, he seemed to glide in the air like a ghost at Hogwarts castle and Harry bet that his skin was just as cold. They walked for more than ten minutes in complete silence, Snape rushing on ahead while Harry did his best to not lag behind.

This house was enormous. From the outside it looked tall and imposing, casting its shadow over the garden but only when you passed through its endless hallways did you realize how big the house actually was. Harry wondered whether there was magic involved. Were the corridors extended by some mysterious branch of magic? Did they even have an end? Harry didn't know. One of the reasons why he had stayed in his room all those weeks was because he didn't fancy getting lost through the myriad of hallways that merged one into the other. His room was located right next to the staircase that brought him downstairs to the kitchen. The only two rooms he knew how to find.

He had tried to walk down the corridor of his room but he was soon met with a crossroad of sorts where three other hallways branched out. Harry had taken the left one but he soon met with a sharp turn followed by a dead end. He had then returned to the crossroad and taken the middle one but he had met another place where this time four hallways met, each leading to different unknown sections of the house. Harry had turned back to his room immediately while he could still find it. He hadn't been anywhere else since.

Now they were moving along what appeared to be a straight hallway with nothing else branching out of it. They had been walking for about fifteen minutes but still there was no end in sight. Yellow globes of dim light were attached to the walls on either side and they bobbed up and down, shifting their shadows along the stone floor. There were no carpets, no wall hangings, no paintings or decorations of any sort, only doors. Hundreds of plain black doors crammed left and right.

Harry wondered once again what each of them concealed. Perhaps, he should try exploring again. This corridor went straight ahead with no chance of anyone losing his way. Still, there was something unsettling about these lines of doors. They gave the impression that something dark and unpleasant was lurking behind them, watching his every move. Before, when he looked at those doors he imagined Snape waiting behind them, ready to attack. Now that he wasn't terrified of Snape jumping on him and biting his neck, his imagination conjured up even worse images. Images of monsters, wolves, murderers.

Harry froze dead in his tracks. Something moved, he had felt it. He had felt something living and breathing brush past him. His breath caught in his throat. He looked all around him but there was no one else there, only him and Snape, striding on ahead. The corridor was dark and empty, the globes of light shimmered on the stone walls, illuminating the row of doors pressed nearly one against the other. Maybe he had just imagined it. No. He heard it again. An odd repetitive sound, something he had definitely heard before but couldn't exactly place. It was coming from behind the door to his left. Harry shivered, almost expecting it to burst open and reveal a dark creature lurking behind it. Harry shook his head. He was being ridiculous. There was no one else here. He was acting like a scared little kid. There was nothing to fear.

The door's handle was a smooth silver that glimmered in the soft light. There was no one behind that door. In fact, Harry could open it right now and see for himself. There was nothing there. He was imagining things. If he just pushed the door open a crack, he would know but Harry couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The images of the blood thirsty wolves still fresh in his mind. There, he heard it again. That weird soft sound like…

"Potter? Trying to get out of our lessons, are we?" Snape had turned back and was now standing only a few paces in front of him.

"It's just that… I thought I heard something."

"Daydreaming again, Potter? I thought that was a privilege you reserved for my potion lessons. Apparently, avoiding responsibilities is a frequent occurrence for you." Snape's voice was dripping with bitter sarcasm. Harry could hear the dislike creeping into his voice again. He gulped, wondering why it hurt him so much. It looks like Snape's anger had gotten worse. He was back to his former self again.

"I'm not daydreaming! I heard something moving in there."

"I assure you that you and I are the sole occupants of this house. Now stop wasting my valuable time and come along, Professor Sprout is waiting."

"But I did hear something." Harry insisted. He didn't know why he was being so stubborn, a moment ago he had been trying to convince himself he was imagining things. Maybe it was because of Snape's tone of voice. Any semblance of calm and control had vanished. The anger and dislike poured out of his words openly. He was no longer even trying. Something didn't sit quite right. What had angered him this time?

"Are you accusing me of lying, Potter?" Snape's voice had gone dangerously quiet. Harry thought it was best not to mention that as a double spy, he lied all the time.

"It's just that… "

"You thought you heard something. I heard you the first time, Potter. What is it that frightens you so? Is it the dark? Are you afraid of it? Or is it your own shadow you seem to fear?"

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Then why are you so unnerved by your own imagination, like a little kid. Is it no wonder I find you worthless." Harry's hands closed into fists. What is wrong with this man? One moment he was a perfectly normal person and the next he was hissing down Harry's throat for no particular reason.

"What would you like me to do, Potter? Would you like me to open that door and show you that there is nothing to fear? Do you wish me to sooth your infantile fears?"

"I'm not a little kid and I told you I'm not afraid!" Snape's hand gripped the silver handle but it didn't turn. Instead, he watched Harry, a familiar sneer of disgust on his face.

"Well, then. I'll open this door and show you an empty room. I'll show you that you're nothing but a silly incompetent…"

"Fine! Don't open the damn thing. I couldn't care less." Harry turned around and literally ran down the corridor. Stupid, stupid Snape and his stupid mood swings. Just when Harry thought they could get along, just when he was beginning to like the man, he starts insulting him again. What the hell was Snape's problem? Just because he heard a noise, doesn't mean that he's silly. This creepy house full of shadows and unending corridors would make anyone see monsters everywhere! Just because the house and the gardens and the vampire like figure prowling the corridors made him nervous, it didn't mean that he was childish!

Harry ran right into the large door at the end of the corridor. His nose smacked painfully on the wooden boards and he let out an angry groan. It hurt like hell. Harry could feel something wet sliding down his chin. Great, now he was bleeding. Just what he needed. He hadn't seen the door at all and who would have? There's no ruddy light! Would it kill Snape to just brighten those infuriating yellow globes. All it would take was a single flick of his wand but the man didn't want to do it. And Harry was the lazy one!

He felt a cold hand gripping his shoulder. He turned around to face Snape with a glare already fixed in place. A drop of blood dripped over his chin and fell onto his shirt, adding yet another stain to its collection. Snape drew his wand and pointed it right in front of his face. Harry's glare faltered as he prepared to run as fast as his thin legs could carry him.

"I'm merely going to heal your nose."

"No thanks. I don't want help from you. I wouldn't want to be silly." Harry wondered where his instinct of self-preservation had gone. Maybe it had never existed in the first place.

"Episky." There was an odd crack and his pain disappeared. Another flick of Snape's wand and he could feel the wet on his skin drying up, even the new stain on his shirt vanished. Snape really had healed him. There he was being nice again. Harry really really did not understand this man. He was getting a headache from trying to keep up with his mood swings! First he was friendly, asking him if he needed help, then he was angry over a single mention of a lion. Next he calls him worthless and silly and now he was healing his nose. Where the hell was the logic in all that? He tried to search Snape expression for any trace of his earlier anger but the faint light threw his face completely into shadow.

"You really should pay closer attention to your surroundings." Snape's tone had returned to neutral again. No trace of the former anger remained almost as if that little exchange had never happened. Well, it had. Harry didn't like being called silly or worthless. The man had called him worthless again and he had done nothing wrong.

"I was just trying to get away from you!" Snape didn't respond, he merely opened the door and made a gesture for Harry to walk inside. Feeling more confused than ever, he walked into the living room, pleasantly surprised when he saw the large orange flames throwing the room into light. The room was completely empty. It looks like Professor Sprout was not here yet. Harry walked over to the one chair in the room that looked remotely comfortable and sat down heavily. He purposefully didn't look at Snape. He was done trying to figure the man out! How could he try and get along with Snape if he didn't know what would set him off? The man was a time bomb waiting to explode any second.

Silence stretched between them with neither of them willing to talk. Harry sensed Snape standing there behind him without moving a single muscle. Harry crossed his legs beneath him and stared at the flames, willing them to turn green. In a few moments, Professor Sprout would be here. She would be friendly and normal and predictably. The complete opposite of Snape and that was just what Harry needed right now. He was just so damn tired of trying to understand the infuriating man!

Almost on cue, the flames rose up with a hiss, their color shifting from bright orange to deep green. There was a loud puff and ash came shooting out from the chimney, covering Harry from head to toe with the grey dust. He made a mental note to stand further away from the fireplace next time they were expecting company.

A large indistinct black shape was flickering in between the flames, its contours coming in and out of focus. A split second later, the shape took color and form, morphing into his Herbology professor. There was a large honest smile already illuminating her face and Harry felt a wash of relief. That was a sight he hasn't seen for too long. She stepped out of the fireplace but the flames were still green. Someone else was coming. Two smaller forms materialized in the flames, a bushy head and a freckled face coming into focus. Harry felt a smile crack open his face as his best friends jumped out of the fireplace and ran over to give him a bone breaking hug.

\- SS -

"Aryna!" Severus hissed, closing the door firmly behind him. With several flicks of his wand, he placed the strongest locking and silencing charms on the door. He looked around the empty room, searching for any sign of movement. He stared at the small child-sized bed in the center, his eyes piercing every inch of the faded white bedsheets but it was empty. There was no other furniture in the room but a old trunk whose iron fastenings were covered with rust.

"Aryna, show yourself!" There was a single small window above the bed, it was set in a alcove dug into the wall. Long iron bars prevented anyone from getting near it, like the windows of a prison cell. One of the thin bars seemed to move. A shape coiled around the iron bar slithered over the metal surface and sank onto the bed. It was a five foot long snake. Its body was a polished black with thin yellow horizontal stripes standing out on its dark body.

"Mind your tone, Severusss." She hissed angrily, lifting her head up to look him in the eye. A red forked tongue flicked out of her mouth. "I am not your slave. No, indeed I am not. Don't you dare give me orderssss!"

"Aryna, what do you suppose you are doing here?" Severus snapped ignoring her annoyed tone. It was never a good idea. She could sulk for weeks and become increasingly bothersome if she was angered too much but right now, Severus didn't care. He was angry too. Angry and scared. "I asked you quite plainly to remain in the dungeons, not slither around the house right under the boy's nose!" She hissed loudly.

"Fool! I go where I pleasssse. I am not your prisoner!"

"I was under the impression that we are friends." Snape crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stop them from trembling. God, he was such a mess.

"We are! Even if you can be annoying and stupid sometimessss."

"Then why did you let yourself be exposed to that boy! Do you not comprehend what will happen should he find out about you? I did not believe you to be this thick!" She was silent. Severus knew that he had gone too far this time. He sighed deeply and tried to calm himself down, he had enough problems already without her being angry with him as well.

"I apologize. I should not have said that and I certainly did not mean it. It is just that…" He paused trying to control the frantic beating of his heart. "Remember the headmaster's reaction when he learned that I am a parcelmouth. Remember his horror and disgust as he realized that the Dark Lord and I share this uncanny similarity."

"It's not uncanny! How elsssse would we understand each other?" Aryna interjected, her tone slightly softened. She was appeased but not entirely so.

"You can call it what you want but it does not change the fact that it unsettled the headmaster. I have no doubt that if he did not desperately need my information, he would have stopped supporting me then and there. I promised him that I would never again use my ability. I cannot keep that promise. I never meant to, for how could I get rid of you? Professor Dumbledore can never find out about you, Ari. He would be so displeased." The tremor in his hands increased as he remembered the last time his mentor was displeased. It had been painful. Too painful. The Dark Lord's anger was easier to bare than his. What was the Cruciatus curse compared to the punishments his headmaster could inflict on him? There was no physical pain but it still hurt. Dumbledore knew exactly how to bend him, to make Severus's mind obedient to his will alone. Oh God, he cannot go through that again.

Aryna slithered to the edge of the bed and leaned her head towards him. On instinct, Severus extended his hand forward, allowing her to curl around his fingers and slither up his arm. She positioned herself around his neck and leaned her small head on his cheek. Her scales were smooth and cold on his skin but it was still a great comfort. Her anger had disappeared.

"Don't worry, ssssily human. The boy will not find out. I will be much more careful next time. Yes, I will. Trusssst me." She put out her long tongue and flicked it on the bridge of his nose. Severus lifted his index finger and stoked her head affectionately. He was slowly resuming control of his own body. He fixed the blank expression on his face and forced his fingers to stop trembling. He needed to get a hold of himself. He had always prided himself on his control but lately, his words and actions were more dictated by emotion than logic. Three times already he had lost control in front of the boy. He had tried hard but the anger and hate still resurfaced, erupting in sudden flashes until he lashed out at the child. It was a pity. This morning, he had even enjoyed himself, speaking so plainly without the need to overanalyze everything. At first he thought that they might get along, but he kept on seeing James Potter in every angle of his face. The more he looked at that face, the more he saw the father lurking underneath.

Still, there was an improved. It wasn't much but it was something. He had left the child angry, confused, and probably not wanting anything to do with him anymore. Severus had to talk to him, to apologize, to make him understand. But how? He was not good at these things.

"Come on. Let's go out. I want to tasssste the fresh air again. Oh, yessss. It has been a long time. Too long." Severus nodded and headed out, Aryna curled up comfortably in his robe pocket. Thanks to Professor Sprout he was having a Potter free day and he intended to take full advantage of it.


	5. Return of the Past

\- HP -

"Come on mate, it's us. You can tell us the truth." Ron clumsily cut the stalk of the Crystalix flower, his silver knife nearly cutting the flower in two but he didn't even notice. He simply threw it unceremoniously into the basket and bend down to cut a second. The three of them were out in the garden conducting a practical herbology lesson. Somewhere behind them, watching them closely was Professor Sprout. They kept their voices low, making completely sure not to be overheard.

"I _am_ telling the truth, Ron. Things here aren't too bad." Harry cut the stalk of the flower slowly, making sure not to injure the delicate petals. The Crystallix flowers were small and transparent, like little sculptures of glass. Harry had the impression that one wrong touch would shatter them into little shards littering the white pathway that circled the perimeter of the garden. Harry was sorry to cut them. They looked so beautiful swaying in the wind reflecting the green leaves all around them. They sparkled under the sun, separating the white sunlight into all the colors of the rainbow. As he cut, he saw a flash of bright red and deep blue followed by a vibrant yellow. They were truly beautiful, too beautiful to be simply chopped into pieces and dumbed into the bottom of a foul smelling cauldron.

"Are you saying that you and Professor Snape are getting along now?" Hermione asked, oddly frowning at the idea. Harry thought that she, at least, would be glad of the news. Hermione had already finished plucking the flowers and now, she was busy separating the petals with an expert touch. Typical. Even in these extra lessons that were really only meant for Harry she was well ahead of him. She drove the tip of her silver dagger into the heart of the flower without the least hesitant as if she had done this a thousand times before.

"Well, you could say that…" Harry started to defend the professor but he was quickly interrupted.

"Of course not! Who could ever get along with that greasy git?" Ron exclaimed, his knife hacking at the plants with extra violence. The flower dropped to the ground and instantly shattered. Glass shards covered the earth at his feet, ready to prick the first person who come near. He ignored Hermione's indignant shake of the head. "He's a death eater for bloody crying out loud. What the hell was Dumbledore thinking sending you here?"

"Oh, Ron, why do you always come to such hasty conclusions?" Hermione whispered, turning around nervously to make sure that the professor was still out of earshot. Professor Sprout was pruning some of the more valuable ingredients, shredding the dried leaves, plucking out weeds that grew in between the tall sturdy stems. She seemed so absorbed in her task that she had completely forgotten the three of them. It was just as well. Ron could never keep his voice down when he got riled up.

"I do have strong doubts about him but nothing is definitely proven yet." Hermione continued.

"Who needs proof? Everyone knows it. That nutter is the bad guy!" Harry smiled, lightheartedly. He had missed this, the familiar sound of his best friends arguing until both their faces had turned bright red. Hermione trying to be fair and reasonable while Ron just ranted on and on, driven by his anger at the injustice of the world. Harry didn't even bother to let his voice be heard. What did it matter? When the two of them were at it, they didn't even hear him.

"We don't know that for sure! Everyone is innocent until proven guilty." Hermione countered hotly.

"Calling Snape innocent is like calling a dragon cuddly. Only Hagrid would be thick enough to do that!" Ron exclaimed letting another flower shatter onto the ground. If he continued this way, he would have no ingredients left to prepare. Harry wondered what Professor Snape would think if he knew they were wasting his carefully harvested plants.

"There is no need to jump to conclusions. Yes, Professor Snape is not friendly but that does not make him a death eater."

"Yeah but that great ugly mark on his arm does." Ron countered with a very smug expression as if he had proved his point beyond a doubt.

"Oh Ronald, why do you have to bring out that mark every time we have this discussion? We have already gone over this. Professor Snape used to be a death eater but now he is working as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix." Hermione whispered, always the cautious one. Even in her indignation, she never forgot where she was, a few meters away from a woman who trusted Professor Snape completely.

"Once a death eater, always a death eater!"

"I base my opinions only on facts, not on popular saying, no matter how nice they sound." Hermione stated reaching out to catch another flower that Ron carelessly let drop.

"We have facts too, Hermione, or have you forgotten about them?" Ron exclaimed indignantly as Hermione yanked the silver dagger from his grasp and started cutting the flowers herself. She couldn't stand to see the damage of perfectly good potion ingredients just because Ron didn't know how to channel his anger. Behind them, they could hear the steady clip clip of the shears as Professor Sprout went about gathering the blue tinged leaves often used for sleeping draughts. She was moving closer. Soon she would pass right by them and Harry had the feeling that she would not like this conversation.

"I admit that we have some incriminating evidence against him but it is not enough. We cannot form a valid conclusion from what we have learned. We need more facts." Harry perked up his ears at Hermione's words. What incriminating evidence? When had they found out? There was definitely something he was missing here. They had spent the entire morning learning different spells in both charms and transfigurations and although Harry was glad to have his friends there with him, they didn't have a chance to talk in private. Harry found out that Hermione had spent the last week at the Burrow with Ron but she refused to say what they had been up to. Something against the rules, since they seemed strangely reluctant to speak of it in front of their herbology professor.

"Guys what…?" Harry's reluctant voice was drowned out by Ron's sharper words.

"For once I agree with you, Mione. We need to know more. If not, old Dumbledore would never believe us and that greasy git will win."

"What are the two of you talking about?" Harry exclaimed loudly, trying to get himself heard. Professor Sprout looked up from her work and for a moment, the three of them held their breathe. Don't come over here. Harry thought crossing his fingers behind him. He really wanted to know what they were talking about. Snape wasn't evil. He couldn't be. At least, that is what Harry wanted to believe. He wanted them to get along but there was a doubt in his mind, a feeling that he couldn't quite shake off. Harry had gone over Snape's behavior when he told him of the door and he felt that Snape had gotten him exactly where he wanted, storming off angrily and forgetting all about that door. Was there really something behind it, something that Snape didn't want him to see? Thankfully Professor Sprout only waved a gloved hand at them and continued to chip away at the plants.

"What did you find out?" He asked again, anxious for an answer. Hermione and Ron exchanged a meaningful glance. Harry couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy. The thought of the two of them going on adventures completely forgetting about him was not exactly pleasant.

"Harry, we need to tell you something important but I don't know if we should talk here…" Hermione's eyes darted to Professor Sprouts back.

"Oh, come on. She can't hear us. Besides, who knows when we'll have another chance." Hermione nodded at Ron's words and pursing her lips, she started to talk in a very serious tone, something that did not reassure Harry.

"Do you remember the Malfoys, Harry?"

"You mean the pointy faced git who's always trying to get us expelled. Yeah, I might vaguely remember something about him." Harry stated sarcastically.

"We're not only talking about that brat! The whole family is connected with You-Know-Who. Dad even thinks Lucius Malfoy might have been his right hand man. And we definitely know that the Malfoy in our class is a foul git. They are evil, those Malfoys, and Snape along with them."

"Nobody is doubting the fact that Malfoy senior is a death eater. What I'm saying is that this doesn't automatically make Professor Snape one too." Hermione stated, looking very exasperated.

"Hermione is right Ron. Why would that make Snape a death eater?"

"Because of Diagon Alley." Ron looked at Harry's blank expression. "Oh, that's right. We didn't have a chance to tell you about that either." Harry shook his head, feeling queasy. Now that they had come to it, Harry didn't really want to know what they were talking about. Was it really that important to know whether Snape was hiding anything? Everybody had secrets but that does not mean they are working for Voldemort.

"Hermione and I went to Diagon Alley yesterday to check out a pet for her when we saw Snape walking down the road, billowing robes and everything." Ron picked up a flower from the basket and started twirling it in his hand. The glass petals glistened as they spun around, faster and faster. They clinked together to form a strange melody like that of wind chimes dancing wildly in the harsh wind. "Then, of course we had to follow him."

"Both of you?" Harry asked astonished. "You spied on a teacher, Hermione?"

"I didn't like it at all but I had to, Harry. I hope that Professor Snape is not working for You-Know-Who but I can't know that for sure, not unless I have some definite proof." Hermione went on. She had suddenly gone very serious. The mild irritation at Ron had given way to real concern. "I will not say that he is a death eater, not without a solid reason but I am still scared, Harry. If he really is working for the dark side then you are in great danger here. You are in his house and if he wanted to, he could hurt you."

"Don't worry, Mione. Really, I'm fine here. Snape isn't exactly easy to live with. He gets angry unexpectedly and he still insults me from time to time but he is getting better. Just this morning, I had an almost normal conversation with him. He did not once hurt me, Hermione. He could have, and I think that sometimes he even wanted to but he didn't." Hermione nodded with a small smile but the look of concern never left her eyes.

"Maybe he's just waiting for You-Know-Who to get stronger so that he can hand you to him and get all the glory." Ron added.

"It's really sweet of you guys to look out for me but there's no need to spy on Snape."

"There is every need, Harry." Hermione pointed out firmly. "Believe me, if there was no need, I would not be doing it. You know how much I hate breaking the rules. Spying on someone else goes against everything I believe in but we need to find out the truth. Your safety depends on it."

"Are you telling me you'll continue to spy on him?" Harry felt uneasy. Snape was a complicated man, hard to understand and even harder to live with but he didn't want to throw away the possibility of them growing closer. When Snape spoke about his students Harry had felt the desire to be considered like one of them. He wanted to have someone looking out for him. A silly idea. His friends were right, Snape could be a death eater. Besides they still can't spend a day together without major drama breaking out. He was being silly but he couldn't help it, he didn't want to give Snape a reason to be angry at him.

"Just listen to what we already found out about him and then judge for yourself." Ron pointed out. Harry nodded and sat up straighter. He really was being silly. If Snape was working for Voldemort, it was Harry's duty to find out. People's lives could be put at risk. It's like Hermione said, he doesn't like it but he had to do it.

"Go ahead then. Where did Snape go?"

"He went into Knockturn alley where he met Malfoy and another man whose face was completely hidden by a large black hood. Together the three of them entered into a pub. We tried to follow but we couldn't. There was a magical barrier that protected the place. Whenever we went near the door it glowed red and refused to open." Hermione said.

"That isn't really a big deal. You guys told me that Snape is a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. If he's a spy, wouldn't he hang out with death eaters to see what they're up to?" Harry countered.

"That is what I thought, Harry, and I did tell you we didn't have definite proof. Only bits and pieces that appear suspicious."

"We have enough to know the truth! Really, Mione, what else do you want? A big sign on his chest saying, 'Arrest me, I'm a death eater." Ron shook his head.

"Anyway, after we saw him with Malfoy in Knockturn alley we thought of a way to find out more about their connection." Hermione continued, shooting a glare in Ron's direction.

"We tried asking my Dad but he didn't know anything and he didn't like us asking questions about Snape so we tried this other bloke, Mr. Lowald. He's one of Dad's close friends from work. He has been working for forty years in the Department of magical law enforcement so we hoped he'd know something about Snape's crimes." Ron continued. "It turns out, we were more than right. We didn't ask him why but it's obvious that this guy hates Snape even more than we do. I think that he knew Snape better than he let on."

"Harry, Snape has a criminal record. A very long criminal record. He has been through many different trials but he was found innocent every time." Hermione said, lowering her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. Professor Sprout has moved closer, the steady rhythm of the shears the only thing keeping their voices from reaching her ears.

"He was tried more than once?" Harry asked, curious despite himself to know something about the man's past.

"Oh, yeah. He has been charged with so many crimes, it's hard to remember even half of them." Ron scrunched up his face, trying to recall what he had heard. "Experimenting with dangerous potions, using the unforgiveables, kidnapping, using dark magic, messing around with people's minds and even poisoning a few poor blokes. And there was a heck of a lot more too."

"That definitely is a big list." Harry turned towards his basket of ingredients and picked up a flower. He had to cut it right along the middle and extract the seeds without damaging the petals. A hard task, something that required great concentration, something that Harry was only too glad to give. This conversation was making him highly uneasy. "But didn't you say he was found innocent of the crimes."

"Yes he was but only because Lucius Malfoy was his lawyer and, as we said before, he has a lot of power and influence. Mr. Lowald says that the evidence against Professor Snape was overwhelming but most of the Wizengamot were too afraid to speak out for fear of their lives." Hermione stated, watching Harry closely. She looked worried as if she could sense the turmoil in her friend's mind. She had always been very perceptive.

"I thought it was Dumbledore who kept him out of Azkaban." Harry carefully sliced through the flowers. A deep red juice seeped out of it and flowed onto his fingers. He had forgotten to put on his gloves. The juice stuck onto his fingers making them sticky and uncomfortable.

"There was one trial which was worse than all the rest put together. He and three of his fellow death eaters were accused of torturing a man who had been a valiant member of the Order of the Phoenix. They used the cruciatus curse until he were driven to madness. After they were done with him, they tortured his wife until she was begging for death. Then they locked the doors and set fire to the building leaving the two of them to roast to death." The silver knife slipped from Harry's fingers and tumbled to the ground, its sharp point leaving a small cut on his leg. Harry didn't even notice the pain. His head was spinning with the image of a woman screaming while fire licked at her skin, melting it away.

"Professor Snape and the three other death eaters were arrested and it looked like they would be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. This time, not even the great Lucius Malfoy could help him, no matter how hard he tried. Then Dumbledore appeared. He said that Professor Snape had been with the death eaters only as a spy for the light side. He stated that Professor Snape was unfortunately unable to save the family since he was outnumbered three to one. Then he vouched for his potions master, saying that he would never commit such a crime. The people believed him. After all, the most powerful light wizard had proclaimed his innocence. Nobody thought to doubt him."

"But then he must be innocent! Dumbledore wouldn't just lie. If he said that Snape was innocent then he probably was." Harry exclaimed.

"I don't know, Harry. Professor Snape has been tried for so many crimes. He can't just be innocent all the time and the worst part is, the trials didn't stop after the family burned. Only three months after that major trial he was accused again of poisoning a man, every scrap of evidence pointing towards him." Hermione sighed. She closed her basket with a snap. Her work was done. Seeds and petals were resting neatly inside two separate containers.

"Weren't you the one who was trying to say that Snape was innocent, Hermione?" Harry pointed out.

"No. I was only saying that we have no definite proof that he is a death eater, not yet at least. All we have are theories and conjectures. I don't want to believe that a man Professor Dumbledore trusts so completely could be evil. It seems unlikely that he would've made such a big error of judgment but…" Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. It was odd seeing her so conflicted. "What I heard from Mr. Lowald was very disquieting."

"Dumbledore can make mistakes. He let a man with You-Know-Who sticking out the back of his head teach Defense," said Ron. "Who's to say he didn't make the same mistake with Snape? The man's a sadistic evil bastard, everybody knows that. Dumbledore is just wrong this time. If you ask me, he's getting too old for his job."

"I think I'll interrupt you there." A voice right behind them called out. All three of them jumped to their feet and turned around, their guilt written all over their faces. Professor Sprout was looking at them oddly, a plant clutched on one hand and a scissor in the other. Dirt marked every inch of her, from her gardening boots to the grey hair on her head. Harry gulped, shuffling his feet awkwardly. How much had she heard? Did she know that they had been spying on Snape?

"Are you three finished separating the Crystallix flowers?" She said evenly. There was no trace of a smile on her face.

"I am." Hermione's voice was more high pitched than usual but it was steady. "Ron has just finished cutting the flowers and Harry is halfway through separating the parts." Professor Sprout nodded once. They had never seen her look so serious. It made Harry squirm with discomfort.

"I think that'll be enough for today. Let's go back inside. It's going to rain soon. These large grey clouds don't seem very friendly." Without another word she led them away from the small hedged in garden they had been working in. They followed the twisting pathways, passing through different gardens all decked with strange plants growing in neat lines and circles. Soon they had lost all sense of direction. They just followed in their silent professor's wake, not daring to open their mouths. Harry wanted to speak and apologize but he wasn't sure how much she had heard or why she was this upset. She seemed more sad than angry as she walked slowly along the road, not looking left or right. Was she sad that they had spied on her colleague or that they didn't trust Dumbledore? Is it possible she had heard something about Snape that upset her? Harry couldn't tell what the matter was. He tried to catch Hermione's eye but she was looking straight ahead, her chin high and her lips pursed. She looked oddly determined as she walked with her basket dangling from her arm and her locks of brown hair bouncing all around her head.

They arrived at room where Harry had first seen the four of them emerge out of the fireplace. It had only been a few hours ago but it seemed a lifetime away. They had all been filled with smiles and laughter but now, only solemn faces were seen. Hermione was still looking as impenetrable as stone while Ron just looked plain uncomfortable. He kept clearing his throat and shuffling his feet. He didn't seem to know what to do with his arms either. He kept moving them, crossing them over his chest one moment, only to join them behind his back the next.

"Well, kids. It's time you two went home." She looked weary as she took the basket from Harry's hand and moved towards the fireplace. They were leaving. This soon. Harry felt a lump in his throat. He didn't want his friends to ever leave. An impractical idea but it didn't prevent him from wishing they would remain by his side, at least for a little longer. He had a lot to digest and their friendly words would've been a great help. Harry forced himself to speak, to attempt to make things right.

"Professor, I'm sorry about what you overheard at the garden." Harry stated, willing Professor Sprout to be more open than Snape. "We shouldn't have been saying those stuff about Professor Snape. You don't have to leave early, professor."

"Oh, Harry." Professor Sprout gave him a sad little smile. "I'm not leaving because of what I heard you kids saying. Your friends and I only meant to stay until dinner, I told you that when we first came here. Molly will be waiting for them to come home with the table already set. It wouldn't do to keep her waiting."

"Oh, I didn't know it was that late." Harry said, feeling slightly foolish. "So you're not angry about earlier?"

"I more sad than angry, Harry. Professor Snape leads a very hard life, constantly risking his life for the light side. The least he deserves is a bit of respect. I know well that students talk ill of him behind his back and it always makes me unhappy. He is a good man at heart but there are not many who see this."

"But he has done…" Ron interjected.

"That does not matter, Ron. It does not matter who he has been but who he is now. He does his best to protect all his students from coming to harm and what does he get in return? Scorn, distrust, even hatred. Does that sound fair to you?" They were silent. What could they say to that?

"I don't think I need to remind you of the number of times he tried to save your life last year, Harry. I think that adding to the cruel rumors that are already flying around the castle is a bad way to repay him."

"But he's not…" Ron's words turned into a groan of pain as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, hard.

"We're sorry, professor." Hermione stated but her determined expression hadn't changed. She was a girl on a mission and no amount of honey coated words would change that.

"I know you don't mean any harm, dears." Professor Sprout gave them a genuine smile. Her checks covered with patches of dirt were flushed pink from the chill outside air. "He can be a little scary sometimes but that doesn't make him a bad person. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and not to mention myself completely trust him and we have good reason to. I can't tell you the reasons since it deals with his private life but just for once, can't you trust us, Harry. After all, we know him much better than you do."

"Yes, professor." The trio stated in unison, their voices little more than a whisper.

"Well, we'd best be going, dears. Goodbye Harry. We'll be seeing you on Monday."

"Bye, professor." She threw the white powder into the fireplace and the flames hissed in protest, their color turning emerald green. She stepped into the fireplace and yelled 'The Burrow.' With a wave and a smile, her body shimmered out of sight, leaving the three of them alone in the room, if only for an instant. Hermione turned around suddenly and placed a hand on each of Harry's shoulder. Her chocolate brown eyes pierced through him, strong and sharp as ever.

"Harry, we cannot stop this. We need to learn more about Professor Snape's personal life."

"But…" Harry was shocked. He was certain that after Professor Sprout's words they would let it go.

"No 'but's. The three of us need to work together and make a plan to gain more information about him." Hermione said firmly, her gaze still fixed on his face.

"You mean you still want to spy on him." Harry certainly did not like where this was going.

"Yes, Harry, that is exactly what I mean. Trust me, I do not want to do this and until I have definite proof, I will not believe that Professor Snape is working for the dark side. However, we must consider the possibility that it might be true and if it is, we need to get you out of here, fast."

"She's right, mate. The greasy git could be dangerous." Ron interjected.

"But guys, this is Snape we're talking about. What do you want to do? Bug him, follow him into death eater meetings? That's dangerous and probably not very useful. Snape is much more powerful than we are and he's extra paranoid. He has protective spells on everything. There's no way to spy on the man." Harry didn't mention the other reason why he was so reluctant. He didn't tell them how he had begun to trust Snape even more than Dumbledore. They'd think he was mental if they knew that if Harry wanted the plain truth, the first person he would consider asking was Snape.

"I don't how, Harry, but there is always a way. We will find it." Harry was astonished at Hermione's strength of will. Usually they had to practically drag her along if they wanted to break the rules but now their roles had reversed. It was Harry that drew back as Hermione pursued the truth, heedless of any danger. Hermione must have sensed his thoughts because suddenly she was answering them.

"So many people that have dared to come close to Snape have ended up dead or tortured or even insane. I'm terrified, Harry, that you might be the next victim. You won't be just another victim. I will not let that ever happen to you." Her eyes were watery all of a sudden. Harry felt a warm surge of affection for Hermione. All his life, he had been alone and it was in moment like these that he realized how lucky he was to have such loyal friends. They were probably wrong and they could get him in big trouble with Snape but right now that didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that they cared enough for him to go through such lengths to ensure his safety.

"We're just looking out for you, mate." Ron thumped him on the back.

"I know, guys." He smiled at them and gave Hermione a brief hug. "I hope there's nothing to worry about but I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

"And watch out for ours letters, Harry. When we find out more information about him, we'll send you an owl." Hermione said, moving to the fireplace and lifting a handful of floo powder from the grey pot sitting on the mantelpiece. The dust slipped between her fingers and slithered onto the carpet in a fine trickle. "We think that it will be dangerous to send information openly in case Professor Snape might read your letters so we'll be using invisible ink."

"But we can't use magic outside of school. How am I supposed to read it?" Harry said. Hermione threw the powder onto the flames, calmly but clearly stating her destination.

"I'm talking about the muggle version of invisible ink. In other words, lemon juice. We'll be writing any compromising information on the envelope itself and the letter will just be about normal things."

"If Snape gets suspicious, he'll just examine the letter. He probably wouldn't give a second thought to the envelope. That's brilliant, Hermione!" She smiled as a faint flush crept across her cheeks. The three of them exchanged a brief goodbye and then, entirely too quickly in Harry's opinion, his friends were gone, transported far away by the hissing flames. The sudden quiet that descended once more on the house seemed to close in on Harry, bringing him a sense of deep unease, reminding him forcefully of what he had learned today.


End file.
